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Swing and a Mister

Sometimes, when the sky is high and the earth is low,

I think to myself,

Things.

Things about how right now I can’t concentrate long enough to write anything worthwhile.

Take this blog for instance.

What on earth am I doing?

The sky, like a high thing, stays where it is.

Why do poets always talk about the sky and rain and feelings?

I am here at the table typing this after watching a basketball game on TV,

Much like Emily Dickenson.

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