Sometimes it is difficult to straighten
my saddened thoughts.
I make my bed, drink some coffee
and catch up on the world.
But it is not always enough.

I muddle through the day
swimming upwards, backwards
and from time-to time
finding moments to write
and see things differently.

On occasions I read Bukowski,
then I realize that things could be worse.
So I read Dickinson,
to find a tangible mind and spirit.

In the end, my thinking
always seems to end up in another room.
A landscape of the spirit,
blue sky and thinking open mind.