Tuesday, January 12, 2010

141. Nard Dog

The slow prowl,
executed like a rabid dog
stalking the neighborhood
children hoping to snag
a late afternoon snack.
Sensibilities have gone
and all that's left is
the instinctual
(less the intellectual).
Seemingly deliberate but
driven by something
not entirely conscious.
The goal, once identified,
makes forward motion
invariably unavoidable -
accelerating toward conclusion,
whatever that may be
__________________________________

This wasn't an assignment. Just emptying the recycle bin to make some room. It lacks subtly, unfortunately. Ce'est la vie. I feel like I've become too serious over the past several years, and I'd like to get back to more entertaining sorts of scribbling.

I miss sleeping.
I actually fell asleep sitting in front of my computer just now, homework only partially finished. Off to bed.

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