To read a book of poetry
from back to front,
there is a cure for certain kinds of sadness.
A person has only to choose.
What doesn’t matter; just that—
This coffee. That dress.
“Here is the time I would like to arrive.”
“Today, I will wash the windows.”
Happiness is harder.
Consider the masters’ description
of awakened existence, how seemingly simple:
Hungry, I eat; sleepy, I sleep.
Is this choosing completely, or not at all?
In either case, everything seems to conspire against it.
from Given Sugar, Given Salt, 2002.