Slices of My Soul

They add up, these slices of my soul,
trite, except for the treasure hunters
who discover the riches that are not there
on purpose.

About this poem.

A few facts:

1. I am not a pack rat. Except when it comes to my creations. So my studio is littered with paintings, my hard drive is littered with poems, short stories, half written essays and oh yes, photographs.
2. People who read or see my creations create their own meanings from them. Which adds a richness to them that I don’t have. It’s humbling and makes me feel more like a conduit than a poet or artist. And that’s fine with me.
3. I spent part of yesterday going through my parents’ house, preparing it to sell. We found all kinds of things, a few of which we never saw before in our lives. They lived in that house since 1965. We grew up there and visited often. But none of us ever saw these things.
4. “Slices of My Soul” is the name of my blog of personal essays, which I have neglected recently, but plan to begin with a bit more discipline.
5. There’s something seriously wrong when the “About this poem” is longer than the poem itself.

Tom