Poem

I’m not sure why I wrote this poem. I sat down at my desk this morning with the intention of doing some paperwork. That intention got lost. Maybe I was feeling low and wanted to play with some thoughts and words to cheer me up. Anyway, it turns out that a poem about why I write poems was what was distracting me. It was written down pretty quickly so I was able to get the paperwork done as well. Except one thing, which I’ll do tomorrow.

Poem

it’s just a thing you do
a place to be
close to
what is ordinary
to the stream of stuff
rolling past

it’s just a thing you do
to hold a moment
in place
to let go of letting go
to keep your feet
moving forward

it’s just a thing you do
a place to be
to cast
an empty mind
into the stream of stuff
rolling past

it’s just a thing you do
to stop your feet
from moving fast
so fast 
you trip and forget and fall
into what is ordinary

it’s just a thing you do
a place to be
a music
stowed in thought
in the words you tie together
hoping someone

might sing the thing you do
into being

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