go back home
go back to the poems
November 3rd 2025
my mind is not a canoe but a vast sprawling space that encompsses multitudes that are beyond the comprehension of any mere mortal I sit in stagnant water as the shore encroaches on the horizon
My goalpost moves from my own volition
My mind spits in the face of my want to succeed and survive
A small hole opens in my canoe
its consequences seemingly insignificant
It would be so easy to plug the hole
but then I would have to take a hand off the oars
so I let the canoe fill with water until it is at my waist
Something covers my eyes but it does not deter me
there is a coldness that my whole body is wrapped in
still I row because that is what I need to do
I sit in stagnant water
still I row to get to the shore