I daily commit to being negatively capable
one might even say it’s the defining spark
of a life spent loving and hating
the art and accountancy
of the modern teacher’s grins and grind

So here’s a mellowly fruitful glass raised
to comrades and fellow sufferers
who dwell in uncertainty and decreasing circles
while those, as sure as idiots
forge ahead

Live IN it:

The breeze brushing soft skin,
glowing in cavernous autumn.

Me solo:

astounded by the world.
astounded by my own hands.
standing on my own feet.
lead by the volition of discovery.
filling empty space
with MY understanding.

What is mine:

Calling dibs on myself.
Thinking about pleasing someone else
and being fraught with anxiety.
Continuously forgetting
things emerge slowly until:
EXCITEMENT of being at the end of things,
hold on tight.

Peeling from my chest:

DIGNITY reminds me
to be uncomfortable
with familiarity.
Beauty is knowing
I'll just miss out on singularity.

So I just LET go:

blow cross shallow water,
bask in uncertainty, and
startle people with my pace.