February 27, 2012 (I was 67)
I ache to wake break bed to get up and go
through motions designed to shed recline
out of repose and into some clothes
and I do what I see to be done to do
Not to be wallowed in grief or swallowed
by the enormity of the construct perceived
I smoke a token of the talisman plant
to decide which ideas should be ideas in deed
Something must be physical and use real muscle
sweater the better the only skill the will
to breathe into mind oxygen sublime
breath breathed by so many breathers before
Creation creates its own pace and slow
is measured one measure at a time
and at a tempo that tempts one to dance
Earth and moon to and fro do-si-do
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