Any-a-gram {a #poem}

I hate it that I am so sporadic

inconsistent, not persistent,

no straight-ahead-in-a-line-to-the-finish.

I’m distracted, side-tracked

stops and starts, mis-matched piles,

can’t remember the whats and whens.

No perfect files, labeled loudly

I A M I N C O N T R O L.

I feign at neatness, completeness escaping me

ever in process, a mess in the making.

Oh, why can’t I be like those orderly others,

those finishers perfectly packing their lives in a box,

the rank and file, who smile

at me, “Oh poor thing, she’s so erratic.”

Well—

I am resigned to the wholeof me,

my hits and misses

marking a difference,

scattering joy, seeds abound.

I cannot (do not) go in a straight line—

Random A to B then on to Z.

(Sequences only happen on a test.)

And life is an actual emergency

(not a test).

I like this formula better:

A cubed to D once plus E squared

then back to A and jump to N, then

who-knows-what?

I’m the only one

who can spell my life.

——-

from my files, circa 2008. still true

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