It begins
with dull morning
light through slits
in shutters.
It ends with moon's
bright gleam
and smile
and my doze
of a sleep.
In between
the getting through
the upward climb
and downward fall
and collapse or
half built up
and left undone
or incomplete
and failings
at my feet.
Books opened
but closed
page marked
with print of Picasso.
Music on the radio
half listened to or not
let slide
into the room
as I sit watching
the cat lick its rear end
or birds on the feeder
swinging to and fro
why? I don't know.
It begins as it ends
two slices of being
like slices of limp bread
with a filling
of dull life
like cheap meat
in railway sandwiches
years ago.
I go on
why?
I don't know.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
It begins
with dull morning
light through slits
in shutters.
It ends with moon's
bright gleam
and smile
and my doze
of a sleep.
In between
the getting through
the upward climb
and downward fall
and collapse or
half built up
and left undone
or incomplete
and failings
at my feet.
Books opened
but closed
page marked
with print of Picasso.
Music on the radio
half listened to or not
let slide
into the room
as I sit watching
the cat lick its rear end
or birds on the feeder
swinging to and fro
why? I don't know.
It begins as it ends
two slices of being
like slices of limp bread
with a filling
of dull life
like cheap meat
in railway sandwiches
years ago.
I go on
why?
I don't know.
MEDITATION ON A LIFE.
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