The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four
and isn’t it good
rise and fall
as you like
if
you like
when you must
how easy
to see a whole life
stretching out
that way
languid comfort
not much held
not much
needed
such false comfort
but a breath
easily taken
in the eye
of a storm
is a breath
no less
for the buffeting before
the buffeting after
breathe deep
before the other need
begins
itches
and scratches
and you
~
I’m persevering with my Wasteland project, though without much sense of to what end. This is poem #123 of a likely #306.
The project has taken me to places I had no intention of visiting.
Such is the muse.
