an unemployment cheque,
shop-lifted necessities,
beer-bottle deposits and you
are all I have to pin myself to,
as clouds chariot over
the steeples of the forest
to other lands; falling
like blessings on other heads,
while I sit wondering
if the seven-year itch
I cannot scratch is really
trying to tell me something.
or is it me - nerve-wracked
by simple circumstance
and the dragnet plain
of bankrupt possibilities?
my eyes shift uneasily
as the mail-slot jumps,
sending me another
thousand thousand offers
on life and living,
while I contemplate
only railroad tracks,
bridges and dim distances:
I have so much further
to go than I ever dreamed
fit, wise or imaginable
through necessity.
by Jack Ohms
Thursday, January 21, 2010
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Blog Archive
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2010
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January
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- Back Home
- AFTER THE HOUSE OF GHOSTS
- The Desert
- On Roads Beyond Hell
- What Children Know
- Like Dead Rabbits Burning on the End of a Cigarette
- bee of good cheer
- Timeprints
- $11.37
- Breath
- McDonald’s Job Interview
- on the day Robert Parker died
- Snow Bound
- one over the left shoulder
- How He Became A Ghost
- SNOW
- ANN FRANKING IT
- JACK
- Secrets
- REDOUBT
- Concussion
- anthem
- My 7th grade French Teacher
- AT THE EDGE
- dried food, weapons
- walking tape recorders
- IN THIS HOUSE WHERE THE PHONE RINGS RARELY
- 'Everyday Asymptote'
- BECAUSE I WAS NEVER
- THE E MAIL PHOTO OF COVE POINT
- Edge Lyric # 6
- This Broken Doorstep
- Desperados
- Rumba Man
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January
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