How many times
I have made this bed
Only to lie in it
Maybe
Alone
Maybe, in company
Tossing wishes into the well
Turning the ship inward
Where sense adds no means of survival
Secluded moments in the offing
Weighed anchor, onto the immeasurable
Untouched by wake
Feelings, now
Choreograph the movements
In self-fulfilling prophecy
A day, a night
Endured by all, even wise
Of the sun’s un-foundering presence
And to wake,
The heat of day long lost
To this unkempt state
How many times
We have made this bed
Only to lie in it
Image credit: Hand woven sheet, “white linen sheet, hand sewn edges with centre french seam. (30 Sep 1969)
Primitive Joe 
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