So many many men
Who look like men
Have egos as delicate
As a freshly iced
Pond in late November
One awkward step and
It disintegrates as quickly
As a sugar cube
Dropped into hot tea
And you’re left blinking
And wondering why what
Part of not interested
Is so damn damaging
As you watch them
Run under the hem
Of their mama’s skirt
I think that what’s
Important is the small
Corner of the bigger
World we all live
In such a place
That corner which disappears
Like mist above ponds
Like dreams upon waking
But to us our
Very own tiny corner
Is enough to sweep
To tidy to decorate
And to welcome others
Whose own little corners
Got swallowed up by
This our round world
Someone tell me why
I forget my nose
Until it is stuffy
Or why I ignore
My throat until it’s
Scratchy or my lungs
Until they are filled
With little green goblins
Ugh I hate being
Sick I am the
Biggest baby of all
*achoo sniffle sniffle cough
I have always said
That the bottom is
The best place to
Start because everything else
Looks up from there
When down chin up
For when your chin
Is up so is
Your head and everything
Is shiny and new
Having spent two years
Submerged with the outcasts
Amongst the otherwise forgotten
Those others know about
But dare not be
Those that make up
The stairs upon which
Most other people climb
I learned that life
Doesn’t end in accumulation
For all those whom
Have not have more
Much more in fact
For those with nothing
Have nothing to lose
And that is blessed
And is actually freedom
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 