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Folding the Laundry

Folding the laundry,
I’m an ant under the concrete not so old,
an overwhelming pad, and I am tiny.

Moving through oceans of dirt,
finding the solidified gray
less tainted than my shirts,

I want to chuck my socks
beyond desolation’s border,
but my robotic kinetics continue
as the carpet is entombed
by piles of chaos.

The other ants left long ago,
leaving behind a stadium,
a tribute to a gaudy culture.

I merely pray, longing for light,
waiting for Mozart to penetrate
my conglomerated malaise of
cements, stones, desolation and fears.

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  1. #1 by Evelyn on October 1, 2011 - 8:20 pm

    “I merely pray, longing for light,
    waiting for Mozart to penetrate
    my conglomerated malaise of
    cements, stones, desolation and fears.”
    sigh. so good.

    • #2 by Carl on October 3, 2011 - 9:07 pm

      I like those lines now better than when I wrote them. I might keep them.

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