CARRIE FARRAR

Instructions for Being Alone

You consult an almanac

for sovereign and deeply rooted beliefs.
Autarky and Nirvana.
Solipsism.

You contemplate
the architecture of your silence,
savoring the fortunate stillness,
the good space
that makes your existence
breathe deeper.

Blue heron glide
over the reservoir near your window,
still as slate,
and spiderwebs stitch
silver lace
across the high porch eaves.

You are enclosed
by a narrative of your own making,
an architect
of private thought,
a quiet scholar
whose company
is purely chosen.

You steep black tea
and note the stars
sharpening into diamonds.
Zen parables drift
through the newsfeeds you skim.

If you meet the Buddha
on the road,
kill him.

The true master
is an eternal student.
The mind is its own place,
and in itself
can make a heaven of hell,
a hell of heaven.

Serendipity.
You sip your tea,
settling into a flavor
you once learned
to call home.

Carrie Farrar is an emerging poet whose work explores interiority, solitude, and the quiet architectures of thought. Her poems often draw on philosophy, contemplative practice, and close observation of the natural world. She lives and writes in California.

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