The Piecemeal Way

We drink like a kettle of fish
wishing we could freshen the air
made out of what we care for
attached our lungs to oxygen
and fond of crisis our best wishes.

Do the mice worship the moon
or instead the smaller stars
that everyone else fails to notice
they are the mouse-like orbs
in the house of the night sky.

The children who grow up to play
jazz are those not kept inside
made to respect the rigid rules
of room and shoes and voices
and who experienced nature.

Did you keep vigilant rhythmic
counting of the bicyclic
turning of the cogged wheel’s
merchandising of the piecemeal
way the moments make a life?

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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2 Responses to The Piecemeal Way

  1. redgladiola says:

    Lovely amalgamation of thoughts. My favorite is the stanza about the children who play jazz. I don’t appreciate it nearly enough, so I guess that says a lot about how I was raised. =)

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