1
All this stuff about time
and reality! How much
I miss pretending
I’m thinking at all.
2
The curse of too many words;
the curse of too few.
I’d like to live between the two.
3
I read and read and read;
don’t know how to think.
Thoughts come, say, “We’re
Here. Got you covered.”
4
I keep a nice yard.
No merit for paradise;
only a nicely trimmed
soul will get me in.
5
Self-discipline is over-
rated. It is the only
ignorance I truly know.
6
“Know the rules so
they can be broken!”
Nothing gets broken
anymore.
7
I shoot the bow
to lose and find
myself – I barely
hit the target.
8
I say I know nothing
of prayer, pray all
the time, know they’re
answered when I hear,
“Thank you.”
9
I gave my heart away.
Don’t want it back.
Keep it forever.
10
My parents are dead.
I keep seeing and hearing
them. That line between
pretty thin.
11
My body aches.
My soul sighs.
Who am I to believe?
12
It is Sunday.
The wind blows as if
it’s Monday. What
do I know of time?
13
When I was born I
had no dreams I’d
be this way.
14
My parents were
people of the word.
I am their son.
15
I have nothing
left to give but
myself – it’s taken
70 years to figure that out.
16
People speak of goals.
I laugh. I prefer being
drawn out by dreams.
Epilogue
Tomorrow I may see
more of my follies:
more laughter, more tears,
more dreams gathered around me.
-Byron Hoot
