there is no simple thing for me
one day like the next until
something happens
and i am struck by gods lightning
it's the daily practice
the penance of dark meditation
unrealized realizations
i see the others enthralled and uplifted
i am pressed down and emptied
mark this on your calendar
tom meditates while the cats scream
writes sad poetry while his wife organizes
chalk festivals and waters neighbors gardens
what joy must await me as i go for my lunchtime run
through empty lakebeds and dusty trails
tonight there will be the beer and anxiety
as one more day leaks away
from my diminishing supply
when everything has meaning i stand
without understanding in my box
i call a home
Sunday, February 21, 2010
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