If it were me I would be;
The northwest side of a house.
Where I could shade
From the intensity of a noonday south
And the guard myself from the
overly dogmatic eastern past.
If it were me I would be:
a tree on top of a mountain.
Where I could stand alone and see
The city encroaching
But know it will never reach my deep-seated roots.
If it were me, I would be.
An ancient Sanskrit encyclopedia.
Where I could store for young people
All the lost secrets of the past, the prophetic visions of the future,
And how to live life best in the present moment.
If it were me, I would be.
The moment in time when it all began.
When everything was new.
And there were no old secrets.
No need to lie or hide the truth from the light of day.
This poem reminded me of Wallace Stevens and of David Byrne. The wonder at seemingly mundane things that, for the poet, evokes a sense of mystery is what made me think of Stevens. And Byrne’s song lyrics certainly do work the same way. And this poem does, too. I hope this is one you are considering to submit to the anthology. I’d revise some of the punctuation choices, but this is a lovely, lovely poem.