Monday, May 27, 2013

How Some Evenings Go

The world shrugs - see ya -
and throws the sun down the slope
so surely I can't
complain about twilight
though I soon must light the lamp.
What is with the world
is what I now muse
as if the world might reason
with me in the dark.
I snuffle around
like a wild dog might, refuse
to settle - not now.

May 27, 2013 7:29 PM


  1. I just wish I could isolate or identify what passes through me when I read that poem. A sense of quiet pondering? Calm overlaying something deeper? It certainly generates a sense of formless energy - if that makes any sense.

    1. Quiet pondering
      could be the thing I try thus
      if only I could
      shut me the hell up.

      I stand in tall grassy light
      at the end of my
      energy, trying
      to make sense or at least smile
      as the sun goes down.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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