I want to come home
soaked to the bone
clammy, sopping
pants dropping to the floor
after cycling in a downpour.
I want to wake up
refreshed and sore
gentle stretching
focusing breath on the core
after running one mile more.
**
On bad days, I cannot write at all
beyond hammering circles of words around words
incoherent rhymes
in margins of forgotten readings
scraps of papers folded
into cracks of my crumbling self.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
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