THE USUAL DAY
I was walking through the usual day
thinking about all the poetry I could be writing
thinking very beautiful thoughts
thoughts full of knowing sighs
that all my favorite poetry
& usually mine is about
poems you may not understand
the first time you encounter them
or the fifth But isn’t life rather
like that? I still recall the first & last
time I opened a book on calculus
the history of an alien civilization
had dropped onto my lap
I scanned I recognized nothing
& I closed the book thinking
maybe this is how skyscrapers are built
maybe this put men on the moon
but what has that to do with me
& my walks & my beautiful thoughts
which no one understands?
& I sighed as I often do & walked
into the usual day looking for the next poem.
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