Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


My emotions sway,
Like clothes hanging on a clothesline
In the cold wind of spring.
Or fall,
I don't know, I've never used a clothesline.
I'm cold,
Frozen to the bone,
Like wet laundry set out to dry in a sun
That never showed its face.
There was only wind to dry me,
And the wind only blew me colder,
I only swayed harder in the afternoon.
I'm only here for now but how long is now?
My every bone has been bitter for so long,
A hug to warm me is never there when needed.
I would be so fortunate as to be able
To walk away from all my quandaries.
I think like this
As I sit in the shack, with the rain and wind
Beating at my back,
Reading a book and getting
All sorts of ideas about how similar
My emotions and a clothesline are.

October 8, 2004

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