why i am
a nomad:


in a world where i grew up
the only place i have
a room of my own.
where comfort is as simple
as a glass of water
and a hole has to be chopped in the ice 
for the cattle when it's cold.

beyond the presence of family and its sacred farm
past trees, water, light and dark
     access to memory and near silence
     friends i've retained in this town
     a roomful of books, dust and childhood trophies

i dont fit comfortable.
there's some thing lacking.
a lost pocket in the possibility of comfort.

i occupy myself with goings-on.
events offer limited distraction.

i see things
             i want to hand to other people

so they'll get the picture told.













why i am
a nomad: