good day. A few sentences.
One that almost has the feel of the true. -Flaubert
anywhere, but only
with ammonia, the crispest
clove, the kind of herb that
dizzies, even stuns, the most
jaded nose. If your head is not
snapped back in the sun,
Somewhere in the middle
you'll find a road not on any
map, a path that wasn't there
until you threw away the stars
and let the dreaming moon
take you by the hand.
Blindly, but not alone, go then
where you have to go.
Step lightly with the wind.
And if there is an end,
let it be like those deer staring
in the last light, their haunting
eyes, the way they linger,
the way they follow you
in the deepening dark of the night.
M. Valentine is a professor of philosophy at the Savannah
College of Art and Design. His poetry has been published in The
Sewanee Review, The Southern Poetry Review, The
Midwest Quarterly, Snake Nation Review, The Adirondack
Review, and others.
John M. Valentine