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Of Mouse and Man

Good day to you, children of all ages! I have so many projects on the go currently that I am afraid my poetry has suffered some. Paradoxically, given it’s only three weeks past the summer equinox, my days have never seemed shorter!

Quick and wonderfully redundant story from the other night. I was swimming lengths at the local pool for the first time in about 2 years. So saying, my jilted cardio-vascular system gifted me with the opportunity to “cool off” every so often and I was pleasantly amused to be entertained by a several adorable divers in training. My guess would be they were approximately 10 but I am atrocious at guessing ages. Regardless, it was so funny watching them, one little guy would often make it to the end of the diving board, jump straight up and then lose his nerve and never actually leave the platform. That would definitely be me. Except of course for the fact that he actually dove many times and I lack the requisite testicular mass to attempt even one. Back flipping off anything/ into anything simply strikes me as contraindicated to my octogenarian modeled lifestyle. Mostly what I retained though was seeing the tiny humans so enjoying themselves and each other’s company. Impressively manages to warm the tiny shred of soul I have remaining to me. You go mini-divers!

A quick, reworked piece to share. The title is better than the poem itself but what can you do?


Of Mouse and Man

So often time proves to us all

That it is vast and we are small

Linear razor scraping through

Keyhole existence we can view

Then when you die all come to see

No such thing as reality

Perhaps that’s sad as endings go

But it’s our World’s eternal flow.


Screw America, we’re making fatalism great again! Interesting how it’s not a theory I abide by at all in regards to singular people, free will and all. However, in the end, we all end up the same… nourishing the universe with our delicious molecules. Atoms! It’s what’s for dinner! Most other meals as well.

Thank you so much for passing through not to mention good-naturedly adjusting to the lack of daily updates. Rest assured, the less you hear from me the better things are progressing otherwise. Or, alternatively, I’ve been tragically done-in during some sort Manchurian-manatee-mishaps. These things will happen.

Happy trails and wagging tails!

(This is my new favorite farewell! It appeals to hikers, dogs, and those among us who never had our vestigial tails surgically removed!). For the record, as far as I know, I never had a tail. Post-birth anyway…

-Alex Blaikie

Categories: poetry writing

Tagged as:

dreadpoetssobriety

A broken mind held together by cellophane and some tack.

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