Clarity
To make it clear, I don’t think there’s anything mystical
about “ghosts”—they are an isness. There’s no secret code
or system of access, and they are there whether you want
them to be or not. They are enjambments within your narrative.
Take an act like walking up the gravel driveway, up the face
of the valley, a semi-zigzag. The incline means you enter
layers of atmosphere at a certain angle per pace and height.
It is atmospheric, you buffer with ghosts of magpies in that way.
What choice will I have but to hang around here when I am gone?
I am confident I will be sensitive to those passing through me
regarding how much of me they do or don’t want contact with.
I might have to rise into the troposphere for sociopolitical
reasons, and out of ecological concern. I will try not to act
as glitter, but I naturally reflect solar heat back into space.
I have no agenda other than letting things grow without
my umbra, for my ghost not to block spirits whose place this is.
