I’m a Stranger Here Myself
by Brian Builta
All the November acorns
crushed and powdering the walk
make me sad, too, sweetie.
That night camping
with the forest noises
stays with me.
The first time I heard Going Home
from the New World Symphony
I was sitting in rush hour, the sun
rising, my soul mid-herkie, the cello
full of heaven and hope. Sometimes
walking in the sun is enough. Other days
you have to fall apart a bit
before the machinery catches
and everything clicks.
Brian Builta lives in Arlington, Texas, and works at Texas Wesleyan University in Fort Worth.