Here, embalmed by this
quiet afternoon,
I sit with my thoughts
as the crowd of ragged
unkept friends.
that sometimes laugh,
sometimes fight,
and sometimes cry
but always play the
Game of thought–what if?
I smile to myself.

And my thoughts turn to
to many things: to the next project,
to where I will be in five years,
to writing and words, and the
fleeting images of family dinners
and the terror of ageing,
doubt about myself, and the
perennial moments of desire,
always interlaced with spikes
about the world’s horror.

I am lucky, I guess,
pleased that I found this space
for contemplation, this moment to be
with my friends, who give unrehearsed,
alive to a life, living, aware of itself,
and sitting in this space of angst.

 

3/8/2026