The
syntax of the day left it open for interpretation
Some
fashion of weather or whether that sat unsettled
But
I couldn't decide for it
Hemmed
into my own sack of problems
Painting
rooms in soothing shades
For
a host of regular demons
The
color and the shape and the minutia
Distracting
my attention away from minions
Little
creative creatures owning my time
Settled
into my mind and my fingers
I
type away to type them away
Tapping
ever harder on unresponsive keys
“That’s
an allegory made famous by Frost”
My
contemplation suddenly expiring in ice or fire
I
exonerate the thought into a dish and burn it
Much
to the delight of my visitors
They
like the heat of failure
Bathe
in the furnace of the defeated creation
A
deluge of weather I finally choose to wash the rooms clean
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