3/10/11
I sit ensconced with books and yellow light
That pours a glow upon my messy desk.
And staring to the left, but void of sight,
My eyebrows pinch together, not to rest
Until the thing has been thought out—as is
My nature when I think too much. A lett-
Er on the page begins to move. And this
Is quite uncommon, so I look a litt
Le closer, and I see it is an ant.
He crawls about between the A’s and T’s.
I try my best to see his world, and can’t.
We both are living strange realities.
The books he climbs upon are scenery—
But in my world, these books, they create me.
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