I Do Not Belong Here (Hiking) / Luca Gonçales


Well, sure. A host of pines, a fleeing doe,
A few frogs, mushrooms; all this bores me so.

I walked around the lake, clockwise and back,
And skipped rocks, and tasted tart sumac.

I even caught a frog, and caught another,
And laughed, pressing their lips as they were lovers,

And turned their bloaty bellies to the sun;
And still, of all thoughts, entertaining one.

Alas: this earth is not mine: nor lake, nor wood,
Nor any thing long promised to me good,

Nor work nor love nor friendship is a salve,
But every medicine effects by halves.

I threw my backpack at a fat last apple,
To find it was a soft, worm-eaten handful.

It is not mine. No, none of this is mine:
For I am either Nothing, or Divine.

Luca Gonçales is a self-taught artist living and working in the Downriver area. He works primarily in stone carving.

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