Great
Care,
I Fill
Out
Life’s
Form,
Age,
Where
Born,
But
I’m
Not
Quite
The
Norm.
Round
Object?
Square
Slot?
I’m
Not
Exactly
It,
And
I Can’t
Squeeze
Myself
To
Fit.
Sorry,
I’m
Unable,
And
Just
A
Stranger
At
The
Statistical
Table.
With
Great Care, I Fill Out Life’s Form, Age, Where Born, But I’m Not Quite The Norm. Round Object? Square Slot? I’m Not Exactly It, And I Can’t Squeeze Myself To Fit. Sorry, I’m Unable, And Just A Stranger At The Statistical Table.
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I’m
Muddling Through Some Version Of The Flu. Yesterday, Too Tired To Take A Shower, I Went Back To Bed And Slept For 24 Hours. Here I Am Today, Trying To Make It, Since I Have Edits To Do, And Laundry, Too. To Stay Current The Trick, It Seems, Is Never Get Sick. A
Panoply Of Scars And Bruises Testify To The Myriad Abuses Of The Flesh Necessary To Mesh With All That Is Required, And Yes, The Heart Grows Tired. Press On, This Day Is New, And There’s Still Vital Work To Do. Turn
Away From The Humdrum Everyday, And Let Your Mind Slip Into Play, With Lyrics From A Lovely Song, Or Poetry Cherished When Life Goes Wrong. Art Can Nimbly Soothe Every Care, And Wherever You Are, It’s Always There, To Savor Alone, Or Even Better, To Share. Brew
Me A Potion To Make Me Young Again, Taller, Please, And Fashionably Thin, And I’ll Begin Over, Living On The Edge, Reaching For The Prize As It Sped By, All As Rich As Heavy Cream, Every Day A Waking Dream. I Can’t Go Back, But I Can Close My Eyes And See A Thousand Blessed Yesterday’s, Caught In Golden Scraps Of Praise. Today,
The Sun Was Nothing But A Frown, As Billowed Clouds Pressed Down Over The Town, But The Tulip Blades Don’t Care, Absorb What Light Is There And Curl Around The Hidden Flower, Awaiting A Brighter Hour. Been
Someplace Else Before I Came Here, And Never Fear, I Might Go Back If I Perceive A Lack In The Atmosphere. I’m A Rolling Stone, Clear To The Bone, So Don’t You Cry When I Say Goodbye. But Not Yet, My Pretty Pet. Give Me A Kiss And One Sweet Smile, And I May Stay A While. Sun
Shapes Shadows Into Form As The Day Warms, And Sculpts The Mountain View Into A Pastel Hue Of Every Shade Of Blue. The
Sun Makes It’s Own Season, Obeys No Reason, And Burns Molten Hot, No Matter What. The Moon Divides The Light And Provides A Cool Reflection In The Night, Smiling In Sections, Guiding Our Nocturnal Direction. Out
There On The Peripheries, Beyond The Sphere We Occupy, A Million Billion Stars Go By, Oblique To The Naked Eye. Powerful Lens Estimate The Texture And The Weight Of One Or Two, And Calculate How Far We Must Fly To Reach The Nearest, No Matter. Why. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
November 2022
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