where are we going
comparing his to mine, them to us
orange to blue, yellow to purple
always opposite, up or down, yes
no, where does bipolar make sense
if the arctic ice melts into vast sea
nightstand trivia, or is it
the last thing to see as the light
goes off, and darkness settles
into all corners, unsure until she
lies still, breathing into soft sighs
watchful, still wondering if all the babies
are in their rightful places, the animals
secure, the birds brought in from the porch
floor swept, leftovers wrapped
was there time to contemplate and gaze
oranges are still on the tree in full bloom
filling an acre with sweet scent below blue
sky filled with swallows and hummingbirds
not sure how the nightstand works here
except that it is the place that holds
space for eyeglasses and beloved books
red bone mala and prayers whispered
comparisons litter mind and landscape
if only this were different and I could whip
out a poem a day and paint a picture
or at least a layer, and there we go
off and running in circles of critisism
self inflicted agony. stop right there
come back to the nightstand
small square under the light
place for Madonna and child
my favorite pen and two tall
teetering stacks of books
LPC14AP08
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