By all means
by Frank Praeger
[ poetry - may 08 ]
No fugue today,
no practised ardor
and I am not worried,
no castanets' hurried existence,
flowers refrain,
footsteps from a grave distance.
There is nothing to worry about,
not a single thought,
a not to be considered time-off
from being who I am.
I will not hold my breath,
I will not pass out
although the suddenness of today leaves me troubled.
Who's that,
who's that on the other side of nowhere?
One more dull thud.
Idols and ricochets follow one another.
A shabbily dressed self would punch out a mirror.
I have not addressed any calloused spirit,
both pressed and not pressed for this rather than that.
