Thursday, November 21, 2013



Can I come home with good news for once?
Can I roam along without blues to announce?
A joy scavenger fiddling among the scraps,
A lost wanderer in search of a different map.
I rescue seconds from to-do lists
But lose hours to rush requests.
There is no order in command,
Only a command, an order and occasional reprimands.

Task by task and job by job
A lack of sense in their dialogue.
Petition here, project there,
Nothing important, as if there ever were.
Like a spider, I reach into the web,
In search of life or some sunlight,
Or some other welcome contact instead.

But my report alas,
Gets lost within a glass,
Of a spirit that cleanses,
Of a liquid that steals,
The memory of a lost day,
In hope to pay bills. 

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