Friday, September 16, 2016

The Real Thing

I fear I have spent
all my words spilled out
onto thousands of compositions
written by someone else
or on compositions of my own
or in countless notes about trivia
only a few care to know --
les Ballets Suedois designs
or the color of Charlemagne's eyes --
or thank-you notes
sent, discarded, forgotten
lifetimes ago. Now
I'd rather look
and in looking 
reserve my words 
for what might
matter some day.

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