I want to smooth this day out


I want to smooth this day out,
but can't, too many disturbances have put
rough dangerous edges on it.

When I pay the clerk for coffee
she yawns so expansively a wormhole
seems to open her face,

there I almost am sucked in, but the change
dropped in my hand jars me,
throws me back into suit and polished shoes.

Sometimes, I think of never leaving bed, tiny
continent of safety and certainty,
but a hunter who never strides from his tent

won't ever earn the prey's respect.
Walking among between beside them, their
middleclass odour is unmistakeable.

Returning to my familiar door there's
no doubt I've betrayed myself,
shuffle like a coward

to the fridge where my beer is cold
and placating, soothing with one
more death left behind that day.

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Devine another poem

About Gary Robinson


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Gary Robinson lives in Ottawa where he tries to juggle poetry writing with insanity in an agreeable equilibrium. Since he is sometimes mistaken for an extra-terrestrial he isn't sure if he's doing that good a job of juggling. Robinson hopes to go from poetry to other kinds of writing one day. A great admirer...read more of Pablo Neruda, Bertolt Brecht and Michael Ondaatje.
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