by Glen Martin Fitch
I like to plan.
I like these pages bare,
my future fresh.
(I never mind the cost.)
So many possibilities!
With care I keep it,
fearing, dreading it get lost.
My old one seems so fragile,
patched and stained,
with names and numbers
crammed on every line.
So much crossed out
and yet a lot remained,
insertions, too,
but not by my design.
The heedless youth believes
"I'll never die!"
The old
"Is this the day?"
We in-betweens obsess,
"By greasy valves?
By sugar high?
By bug bite,
bomb,
false step?
By threats unseen?"
I can't control
the where or when or how.
Still I prefer
to start my planning now.
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ABOUT THE POET ~
Glen Fitch is a 16th Century poet lost in the 21st Century. Born near Niagara Falls, educated in the Catskills, thirty years on the Monterey Bay he now lives in Palm Springs. Retail not academics has paid the bills. Someday he will finish Spenser's "The Fairie Queene."
Last updated August 23, 2011