peppermint tea steamy, aromatic
too hot in this thermos for the tongue
that waits just like my mind for inspiration
the ballpoint is cradled between the thumb
and the fingers of the trigger and the ring
as I assemble doodles aimlessly in the margin
I sketch a stylized sun with sunglasses and a wry smile
add electrical waves zigging and zagging
from the head like kinky octopus arms
I write two words..."emit and time "
the same letters forward and back...i'm stalling
for a real poem, I'm waiting for my tea to cool
or at least settle down enough for lips that crave
some brilliance...I take another sip, but still
no masterpiece, I let the hand do what it wants to
words appear then go away like an etch-a-sketch
inferior work disappears with the wave of a hand
time moves on as determined as it ever was and I accept
that I am no brighter at this moment
as when I started, no brighter
than a doodle of the sun
reworking doodles
reworking doodles
the death of empathy is the birth of barbarism
Re: reworking doodles
Love this. Some of our masterpieces have been ignored. "Emit and Time." Exactly.
Re: reworking doodles
one man's doodles are another man's art. like it
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach 10,000 stars how not to dance.
e e cummings
e e cummings
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