It’s only a short straight hill (First Poem.of the Year)
“I'm 69, newly homeless, and can't wait to start the journey of a creative life after being asleep for so long. It's only a short straight hill and I'll be on a path into a new life.”
Jeremiah B Xxxxxx Jr.
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it is 4:11am on the first day of a new year.
a year is a unit; mathematically measurable, defined, calculable, divisible by seconds, minutes, hours & days, all artifices, mutually acknowledged.
you, & others, remind me too easily, that the creative is the only path to endless, (a unit immeasurable) reinvigorating life.
your fragrant optimium optimism is stun gun overpowering, the ill defined, but instantly understood, immeasurable distance, you foresee to life better is conquerable!
”only a short straight hill”
imbues me to lift head, heart, arm & unloved dried ink pen, to pen, to unpack, to speak, of all that needs climbing, over the artificial lines of the first unit of time: