Wednesday, March 23, 2016


Free from the complications
of discursive mind.
Enough money to live
and not be a slave, or,
starving in a ditch.
Free to write whatever
I wish, not burdened by
deadlines or the possibility 
of fame.
I crossed the finish line,
yet, I find myself still alive,
a joy to bask in non action.
i followed the unwritten map,
seeing signposts in my beans 
and coffee...avoiding potholes
of trapped minds...nodding and
smiling to the policemen of
control, obviously not worth
their bother.
Humor is my atomic bomb,
assuring mutual destruction
of pretense and fakery.
I write because it's what I do,
without effort or reason, failing
to impress, no other purpose
but that I love words and am
curious as to how they will
come out, the way some 
people dance.


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