What am I doing?
WHAT AM I REALLY DOING WITH THIS
Struggles of a nine to five that would not comfort me
are not in my cards;
they just are not present.
Joys, meanwhile, of playing on a pprofessional poet’s plain
are bringing about upheaval both external and internal.
Towards the ides of September,
a career in the poetic arts is what
coos for me, sweet like the sunset.
Too bad those coos have little connection to
Mr. Benjamin Franklin.
So, this is where my heart is stranded…
in the kind of limbo that I would not wish on
I have to keep running though,
even on uncertain courses in this