This morning I’ve decided to give myself a time limit.  It’s now 8:48 and I want to be able to start work by 10:30 with a couple of things to do in between, so it’s from now until 9:30 I’ll be writing, listening to music and trying to figure out what other limits I have set for myself and seeing if I can’t break them down.


Struggling fingers

hurt by a combative mind,

Noisy and fearful.

Forced the growing grass

To bend, to slow it all down

To re-enter Earth

The familiar

Reaches out uncertainly

I cannot be touched

Rough hands, greased fingers

Delicately fit a bolt

Creating purpose

This entry was published on August 30, 2012 at 08:19. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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