Memorializing Mediocrity

School Years

I jumped through school hoops
better than all but two of my peers
and was happy to keep my mouth shut.

At college I outplayed most of my mates,
simply by following the directions, and
typing up the words that were wanted.

It was early success for a slow learner
unable to figure out the important stuff
until her life was at least half over.

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Logos in Reserve

Word Hoard

My word hoard
continues to grow.
Soon there will be
no room for me.
The stack
is becoming
too big,
too teetering,
too good-for-someday only.
I try to add nothing,
try to take nothing.
I need the silence,
but can’t remember
where I put it.

Circulation

Circulation

The roundness of tonight’s moon
added depth to her words
printed on the old newspaper
that happened to find its way
into my hands.

She is a former colleague
who might have been a friend
if our paths had crossed
at a different point
in the cycle of life.

“I sense a circle full,”
she wrote,
sharing her past,
hinting at her future,
and reminding us all
that life becomes death
and death becomes life.

The vines
that form the wreath
are pliable.
They bend.
And as one slides past
another,
a crook
catches on
a flaw.

Branches tangle for a while,
spending time together,
until they break free
and go their separate ways,
continuing on so that
a ring is formed.