Universe Beside the Window


If I turn to you and say, the light should by now be green, you’ll tell me that I’m not a poet. You always do.

Suffering seems to be important. And this vast landscape called; a usable interpretation of reality.

We’re drowned in input to the point where we regurgitate. Layered reality drives us beyond acceptance.

Sun touches the deck. Tomorrow, they say it will snow. A robin argues with the grackles. The grass is turning back to life. Maple keys think the rake is suicide.

We’re one day from Good Friday. Who should I forgive?