by Larry Goodell

There was my shadow on the wall as tall as memory
blocking the hallway putting in doubt what you see.
Take care of me, blurs of my actual eyesight.
Will the natural ever be enough, meanings diffuse.
I love to talk purely for myself to try to clear up things.
Now going to sleep, everything gets deposited
in the bank of night.  I’ll see you later, waking thoughts,
the power and energy of morning, the Sufi dance
of the cells and Indian plaza dance calling back the years
forward into the day, with the heart beating working the way
from brain to toes and back to heart, something to say
reflected in love forever, seeking friendship, a cluster of meaningful
sounding boards for the voice, the necessary zig-zag of sanity,
checks and balances, give and take, what more can the day make.