Saturday, March 5, 2022

medium

The screen is too small and

my eyes no match for 

such fine print and these

scratchy pawed on glasses, 

the wrong specs for both

the lenses and these young 

person’s dimensions and font.

That’s not to say that I won’t 

give it a shot, just foreshadowing 

the sort of shot I got. Margins made 

fresh from the limits degeneration and

neglect impose, a line that lands

harder than any law. The beginning

lessons of my limits, this life

forever saving one for later.

A terse description given 

little room to grow, these 

seeds saved for the far tomorrows. 

No comments:

Post a Comment

unbidden

It is the earth that moves and not the cursor. It is the feet and the fields and not the map. This warm sun, this striped sky, this river of...