Last night I sat in the Red Chair
where you're supposed to be
In the Moment.
I skipped out --
to Vienna,
to Daly City,
to a small town
where I once ate at a McDonald's
but couldn't speak the language.
How to be present?
I fear it can only happen
after present
has become past.
2 comments:
You're really leaving your mark on MacDowell. It's a better place for having you. The poems are a nice touch and it's great that they are received well! Ly fff
Aw, thanks, baby! If you bring me lunch in a basket, I'll write poems for you too!
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