Sunday, March 5, 2017

A Sly Bunch

Instincts may appear to be at war –
wearied by a permanent
condition of ambivalence: the chore
of keeping whole the firmament

while tugging at cross-purposes’
opposed effects, to hover
over all your nervous surfaces
to quiet them enough to cover

up their enmity: to pull the punch
to make it seem like you’re in balance.
But instincts are a sly bunch:
hiding wonderfully availing talents

for pretense: bombing through
as if they’re warriors advancing
toward another doomed snafu
when really they are dancing –

and having
much more
fun than


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