Minimalism is Subtraction for the Sake of Focus
I live on a white sheet.
The word ‘Free’ on a wall.
A book with blank pages. A pen that always has ink.
One wall is window, I face this way.
My library is on a device.
Bleached bones, a shore line dragged clean.
One top, one skirt, one knife, one fork, one pair of shoes.
I saw that book. Everything from the house on the front lawn.
Twice I have sold my sewing machine and bought another.
I make things. They fill a shelf.
Sand mandalas made by the monks take days, they are admired and raked away.
Every possession a liability.
It is enough to kneel in the grass and watch an ant sip water.