Clutter

where I grew
up
skies are
big
the foreground is
small
the horizons are
vast
and the only times
away from home
that ever
felt like this part of
home
were the many times
looking west into the ocean
while leaning
against the end rails of
Pacific piers
and thanking
God that there was nothing
to see but seeing

every once in awhile
even where i now live
i leave the
valley and find my way
south and west enough
that i can see
the seeing
and be
with
out
clutter

i suppose this is what writing poems is to me

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