Sunday, November 20, 2016

11.12.16 Small angry pieces

Today somehow I am breaking things
the old ways circling back around
Tossed clipboard, wooden spoon ,glass jar
Shards lingering, then cleaned up once again

Surprised, I sink into the cold November day
as it sweeps us along an indented dirt road
With its stark comforting isolation, and its
insistent buffeting winds


All of us bear the mark of our passage
That which is intolerable is sometimes instead
inconceivably broken into innumerable
impossibly small angry pieces

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