help me break my
patterns
they blind
me
the way
i decide how
to place
a line
snow reported
to be 1.7 inches
in this
afternoon
as i struggle
to find my
feet today
in my
profession
instead i
look up Billy
Collins
who has never
written a
poem i
did not
like
then i wonder
how someone
like this
could
exist
and do they
ever mean to
get their feet
in the
day
yet go looking
for other
things
and billy collins
knows where
wild
birds
fly
and why a
beautiful
woman
sighs
he'd know the
signaling of
something
secret
and precious
the message
in a
trembling
sustained
string
or where
the highest
star in
the night
winks towards
all the while
i doodled here
in my brain
writing poems
like a shopping
list or a
description of
being lost
but here is
something to
hope for
now
here is
where
i have
reached
soon will
endlessly
be falling
beautiful
snow
beautiful
snow
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