Patterns, there are patterns here<\/p>\n
Beacons, some too close.
\nPassing, eyes are dazzled into the dark beyond.
\nThe old path is lost, the new one obscured by greedy blindness.
\nSome too far, dim, confused with rising stars
\nDrunks in the dark, ties, dreads, opulent floozies, guitars. Aphorisms.
\nProphets in running shorts spit on the sidewalk and I jump before their clear purpose.<\/p>\n
Direction? I stroll aimlessly, looking for a sign.<\/p>\n
Swirling potential, Durham, Ann Arbor, Princeton
\nThe same, or do I merely see them with the same eyes?
\nWarm air from the sidewalk grate, should I follow the heat or the light?
\nNoise or signal? Lead or follow? Bartender or financier? Hobo or genius? Success or loser?
\nWho decides?<\/p>\n
Laser focus … diffused over an entire life
\nA whole consciousness, observed in a flashbulb.
\nYour life I understand, mine I cannot see.<\/p>\n
Rabbit twists in struggle, and a leg is broken rather than a neck.
\nThen the neck and the knife.
\nChef resolves to respect his ingredients,
\nI hear a story on the radio, between wars and terror.
\nI give a book to a friend, inspired by it all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"