Take refuge in a long poem.
—George Stanley
Buzz saw in the distance. The
noise of the back-up drive
picking up each new word.
Downloading pictures from
the cruise to Mexico. Dis
tracting myself from writing
by tidying up the place.
-ing, -ing, -ing.
The crack along the side
of the cylinder – mostly
empty container of
blank recordable
compact discs
(700 MB).
Just a few lines down, there’s
Write carelessly.
Hadn’t read that when I first began
but how true it is!
Thinking –
hopefully erroneously (in just some way) –
how this can’t work.
This poem fits nicely onto one page.
But then...
there are 945 others
that do the same.
Then, then,
how repetition,
repetition...
