too many paths

You know how to tell when the poet is getting ready to do something amazing? When he starts becoming very introspective. Read his blog for the last few days, he has turned inward. Whether it is an internal draw or being pressed to it by a disappointment in his love life, these are the moments when God holds his breath (unlike the poet, I am comfortable with the divine being male) waiting for the miracle of creation.

Here's a new one he sent me just this morning...

too many paths

too many paths have I
walked without knowing where I was going
lost to memories marked
for revelation down a dust trail
that I will never know
who or to what purpose it was made


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I know he has been contemplating a woman of late (read his latest poetry, for the most part she is there) and torturing himself with the question of the depth and dependability of her feelings. His second wife really gutted him, emotionally, he i not the poet-god who stood on the cliffs at Ka-latil and dared the Santa Anna winds to lift him or throw him down.

I think he thinks he has but one more great love left room for in his heart, and like a child with a final coin in his pocket, does not want to waste it on a hasty flirtation. On the "crusty lust" of the fairy glamour that is dusted on the world by his words.

I wish I had words for him, but I don't. He's a...he's...the poet. And he wants to taste that familiar nectar one last time before his run is up, before the pen runs dry and the heavens mark his passing. He has the legacy, he just wants one final chance to live within it.