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Clutter

where I grew 
up
skies are 
big
the foreground is 
small
the horizons are 
vast
and the only times 
away from home 
that ever 
felt like this part of
home
were the many times
looking west into the ocean
while leaning 
against the end rails of 
Pacific piers
and thanking 
God that there was nothing
to see but seeing

every once in awhile
even where i now live
i leave the 
valley and find my way
south and west enough 
that i can see
the seeing 
and be 
with 
out 
clutter

i suppose this is what writing poems is to me