the Bald Man sits
and types for
hours, and
for hours, he sits
and types, to
make a meaning happen, or
to hone a pointed message to
God, quibble for his
time, canvass for a
clearness of mind, an
explanation for
being, an
excuse for seeing, but
I know what he does
not: that the
hours in between a food
situation are only
hours, and hours
without a
meaning found
TAGS: Couch | DailyRothko | Dogs