Tuesday, May 08, 2007

low fidelity zombie

Went to bed at 6am, up at 10, just like the old days. Should have expected to pull one last all nighter in college, a nice throwback to my early, glossy-eyed days. It is midnight now and I'm still going. Not strong, but still going. My mind is off somewhere else, outside of tiredness, processing much as of late. My face occasionally tightens. I stare off blankly only to zoom back in. There is a big night tomorrow. The pencil is not yet ready for the page.

But it is sharpening.

The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water --
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other --
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling --
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping -- their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.

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