Greetings Netizens

Wed Apr 27, 2005

Well, my parents made it back safely from South Africa and they seem to have had a good time, they came back plumper and in good spirits. This week-end Angela and I are going up to Whistler for our one year anniversary. It should be awesome. Anyways, here is the weekly poem, as promised. You didn’t think I was going to talk about me did you? No, never!

The milling madness returns

Weariness alone taints my dreary disposition.

Manifest as the milling madness taking position

In my spirit’s home; the temple of bone

Dressed in flesh, yet never hewed in stone

A malleable masterpiece, easily corrupted

A soft mess too readily sculpted

By those soft mad hands.

So it is, Defeat seldom signals an end

Dogged by malcontent, I toil to fend

Off the stubborn foe poking burgeoning holes

in my riddled temple.

yet, in their slow conscientious way, I know

those fingers, those ruddy bulbous digits,

Will depress my flesh with relentless

meticulousness and find my harrowed soul.

I’ve written about “the milling madness” elsewhere, and this seems to be a common theme for me, it’s the feeling you know when your body feels so very very tired and weak…it’s paralleled here by the vulnerability of the spirit. And those “soft mad hands”? well…I’m not going to enunciate anything, take it as you will.

chow for now



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