i’ve been sitting here for
minutes, asking myself
what mood i am in so that
i will know what kind of
poem to write; but my
laughable self-knowledge
yet again fails me,
refusing to clarify
what meaning I should find
in this unstoppable lethargy
that has swept through me
for no foreseeable reason.
Day: August 7, 2008
but watching mariano rivera pitch was awesome
poetrythousands stand
yelling as one
shouting about
a man trying to
hit a ball
over a wall
while I sit
soaking it all
in not feeling
connected to the
emotional surge,
missing the wave
as it passes me by
four thirty a.m.
poetrybeyond the cove
and the cliffs
echoes the lonely cry
of a nameless bird
while most still
sleep.
eh?
poetryfilled up but not what i’d call full
because i’m more a glass
partially empty
kind of guy
3 days
of 5
but
the rest
of the week
i tend to be slightly
more optomistic about
the things i see and feel and
all the places you go when i’m not
around to check into our dealings of sorts
the sieve and the sand 