What Wandering Turns Toward

My step-by-step built-up-from-pieces
dirigible of an explanation for exceptionalism
makes its diligent way through chased clouds
through badgered woods
toward steps to heaven.

My apologetic bending-over-backwards
uncritical criticism of lackluster sameness
saved many a day from overexpectation
up to the neck
in debt to strangeness.

My wishfully thought transformation
of decades of foibles into my heady agenda
(or maybe it wasn’t really mine after all)
was an April flowering
ended by July.

I am a local when in town and then a sharp
observer of the human condition on the road
my mission lies between me and my destination
I talk in transcendence
I listen in code.

My drug-free high-ceilinged airiness
arising from loving things for so little reason
wrote so many songs not played or sung
turning my wrongdoings
into pear blossoms.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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