this is the bad poetry i promised

(with apologies to every poet who ever lived, anywhere, at anytime.)

i wrote this quite a while ago, and had, blessedly, forgotten about it. now it's back. sorry,


thoughts arise, and die again
with distressing ease.
they come and go like taxis,
erections, or a sneeze.
and yet we give them value,
permanence and place,
a vain attempt to make a world
that never changes pace.
when things tilt, we tighten up,
we fume and spit and seethe.
we rarely do the easy thing-
relax, let go, and BREATHE.

SO glad to have gotten that out of my system.