retrospecting
here is a poem i wrote who knows when, about who knows what:
how can i see
blankly staring at your face?
like a safety deposit box,
i stare myself inside you
and only come out
for Christmastime, holidays,
special occasions.i am sick,
ill,
tired,
and confused.
uncertainty
is my muse.
i thought it was interesting.
here's a haiku:
only one star
fluorescent lighting and my eye
flickering
i like to carry around a little notebook into which i occasionally scribble poems and thoughts (and phone numbers and urls and grocery lists). i've got about four now, tucked away in a shoebox. these are interesting to look back upon.
why does everything have to be normal and explicable?
inexplicable -- is able to be unexplained.
what can remain unexplained no matter how much you explain it?
what does not need to be explained, and so can remain unexplained?
finally, this seems appropriate:
Today I went for a walk and I walked down the same alleys that I had played in as a little kid. It was a strange feeling to see the same old places, aged and changed and yet still the same.
looking at backyards--
putting my old poems
into new pockets