I want to tell you about
the singular world I live in
(well, all our worlds are singular—
yours, mine, his, hers)—
but I can't always do it.
There's many a memory slip twixt
what I experience—
deeply, sometimes, and joyfully—
and the nib of my pen hitting paper.
I am indeed reduced, at such times,
to living in the present,
for the deep and exhilarating experience
becomes, in a flash,
as irretrievable as any dream.
It's no longer available, that astounding moment.
But I can tell you about
the very small, mundane moments of my life.
I pretend to present them as pejorative,
petty,
less than.
But the mundane is all I can offer:
the wonderful brightness
of my mundane existence.
Musings blog: http://www.scenesfromthejourney.blogspot.com
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