So Too many meetings, an eternal leap--just so
But some things are useful; anyone could do this.
They say I mean a thousand things--warning:
I may have cried about it and made it important
but it's just the spin of the world, a spell shortened.
Doubts nest together like spoons--they question
smarts or scope or if I'm dope. I'll fiddle with my
mic, memorize hopes cresting the tip of prayer,
behind my curtain of tongue, my blanket of sleep
and an inevitably unreadable ticking to tomorrow.
(Here I am bundled up for sitting outside for hours in barely 60 degree weather, looking like a fool, and I kinda secretly love it.)