Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, cancelled,
Are you willing to be made nothing?
dipped into oblivion?
If not, you will never really change.
The phoenix renews her youth
only when she is burnt, burnt alive, burnt down
to hot and flocculent ash.
Then the small stirring of a new small bub in the nest
with strands of down like floating ash
shows that she is renewing her youth like the eagle,
- Phoenix, D.H. Lawrence
Oh, henny penny, if only.
In the elliptical arc of the hours’ orbit,
the morning’s yolky sun throws shadows;
this year the winter white sky never fell instead it entered, blankly ominous
the word I could not recall, “complacent”, came to me
in an empty moment my mind wasn’t fiddling with or trying to fill and
it sat there as good as its word
and stared at me emptily, and I, extinguished, sit by
because the ashpit of the old self has embers - hot and flocculent -
and I am waxy cold and featherless.