Alan Watts


The first morning

after moving back

into our bedroom

(the coolest room in the house,

this unnaturally hot summer)

I listen to the magpies

in the pine grove outside the window,

squirting vocal elasticies in the wind

A tiny insect

(I'd need a magnifying glass)

just walked across the page

of the notebook

A nurse on the phone

just gave me a plausible

(or possible)


for the cramp pain

in my buttock

I feel like eavesdroppping,

reading Alan Watts' letters

Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2022-05-27 at 09:51

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
I have had the same experience with certain writers, and I think that was their intention.