Born the year of the water ox
a fish out of water
in every tributary and ocean

still I swim
filled to the gill
with all I need

Been trying to find a way to sum up, though I hate to engage in that kind of math. The injury I allow myself comes from allowing myself to get too attached to the job. I knew, down deep, it wouldn’t last. There wasn’t enough to sustain it, and the thing toppled like all castles built on sand or so goes the old parable, and I have discovered, much to my surprise, that I still have a sense of dignity. I end up making my way through the world in the exact same way. And so I do.

And so I will.