04 May 2018

Postcard 126

Do not think for a moment
that I don't take stock:

Four starlings harass
an egg-hungry crow
a sheaf of blank paper
-clear white terror
A blue tarp threadbarely clinging to
a single anchor, marks and charts
every pitch and yaw of wind
This hand
-ten solid scars
eleven on the other
Halfway between them,
a single wrinkled plum-pit of being
-bottomless, inscrutable
(In the space of)
seven broken sentences
eight people have passed by
-some to
-mostly fro
Only two of them distracted me
An hour of sunlight in
my cup of coffee
-bitter black
-cool in mouth
Both legs a-tingle
half asleep
My body sleeping on the job
A full bladder
(as distinct from
but not separate from)
a stirring of loins at
a somewhat unwelcome pleasant memory
Four. No,
five. Now
nine or ten cut memories
A single unseen and unconcerned editor of thought
One guilty thought
the table rocks
one half an inch on
four legs
An itch I cannot scratch
A friendly red dog

I am just getting started

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