by Marc Vincenz
Failure to meet tight deadlines—
a nagging, or perhaps an itch to fight back
against the morass, your tender
gardening pleasures, the Zen
of green thumb, the nurturing of integers,
where a plus didn’t mean more than this
and a negative was just another tax haven
until—as had frequently been divined,
cross-legged in rapt meditation, staring
into the Mists of Lake Hangzhou
a hesitation arrived, something
did not multiply. Lucky for you
the world was no solid ball, but a spongy
mass that gave way and bounced back.
_______________________________
Marc Vincenz is a regular contributor to this blog. He appeared in AlteredScale.com issue 2, and he edits MadHat.
See his entry at Poets & Writers.
No comments:
Post a Comment