Thought to offer a poem that just arrived;
will likely take at least twenty years to
believe with some assurance that it's
"right," in so-called final form.
I wrote 206 words today, took
22,000 breaths of air
and released every one of them
back to the Commons.
I ate various creatures with my white teeth,
smiled twice meaningfully, 83 times for sake of diplomacy,
fell in love with my usual ration, 9,
and tried manfully to keep this letter brief
and I nominate for Notion of the Week
the fact that death is perfectly safe,
you can give yourself there with all your might
and off you'll drift, unendable ride.
Plus also I washed the dishes twice
managed to let 7 heart-knots slip...
the daily stuff, cat's dish, quip,
wended its way like Thy Will Be Done.
I remembered some goodnesses, also times
I played the prick; endured regret;
thought of this or that with no purpose or reason,
thought of you, and you. And sat like a mountain.
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