it’s past time to trim the back hedge
sweep the garage
plant tomatoes
clean those gutters and solar
panels and oh my hair
is desperate for a cut
what I shouldn’t be doing
is sitting on the sofa
on a listless afternoon
throwing down thoughts
shaping them into a lumpy story
and firing up the kiln to finish it off
poems have never been
a practical product
though some when placed
at the entry of a mind
can add some ambience
especially if the rest
of the mental residence
is more mobile home than
Ranch or French Colonial
more tarpaper shack
than Malibu Beach house
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