Soon the cold water
will feel warm.
Soon
I’ll feel
it was always warm.

My quest is to foretell the future
but
to stay insane—
very much insane.

Momentous inertia
reaches fragile ears
and I’m finding :
I regret nothing.

Competence tastes
an awful lot
like caviar these days;

I wonder how
the sturgeons feel
about that sort

of trend.


The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience.

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