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Saturday, May 1, 2021

Currents | Reflection Poetry

A vision of something simple--
or a day that might end.
Or might not.
A lofty stratosphere.
Is that redundant?

Might end ...
Probability and a can of tuna fish.
Slow down! No dust!
Rent is due,
but last month felt like it was
only three days!
I shaved today;
the plants outside need water
and fertilizing.
To-do lists need to be disciplined;
add a task, turn around, take a breath,
and turn back:
you've got ten more to deal with!

I exist to shade,
to cut verbiage like grass,
to throw more on the dry earth
like some perplexed Johnny Appleseed.
Instead of wandering,
I sweep,
I sleep,
I weep.

Or ambiance.
Quote After Christianity,
wonder how the pain in my hip was started,
maybe watch the afternoon cloud over and the sun
gracefully bow westward off the gray-curtained stage.
Coffee, tuna fish sandwiches, The Last of Us.
How would Blake handle Infected,
or runners, or the cold, grimy cement of empty materialism?

No, I didn't quote the Greeks,
and I don't have a degree in English Lit from
Big Sweaty U.
Inaction and immorality spring most often
from angry erudition.
I'd much rather pop the top on a beer
and take a nap.