February 19, 2014 § Leave a comment

the gift of life is
so completely baffling
that everything I
attempt to write
about it
makes total sense,
if only to myself,
as well as
one hundred percent
lunatic rambling
at the same time

the look on my face
is one of endless anticipation,
one of somebody always
expecting a dispatch
from the edge of
the universe

my fingers
in permanent curl
around the pen
of spontaneous response

(c) 2014 Fred Whitehead


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