as if reality were the property of fools
a birthday poem
these words
with yet another
year gone by
with yet another
woman at my side
as if reality
were the property of fools
knuckles coarse from
banging out the minutes
saying forget the night
whose shadows
are only strangers
casing the dawn
waking to do laundry
make eggs
change
the litter box
mop floors
drink water
drink beer
cut toenails
scrub toilets
read poems
write poems
reject world
receive phone
calls
count pennies
sit in sunshine
dream Quixote’s dream
and listen to old
toothless
howl
against the
mountains
rising over arcadia
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