, , , , , , , , , ,


The Bag I'm In

A stone’s throw from obscurity
One step from irrecoverable
On the threshold of invisibility
Hours away from unidentifiable . . .
Unworthy of the time it takes to perceive
The bag I’m in.

Life’s shadows shade eccentricity
Of earmarking humble stations
By insulting inconspicuous humanity
With set societal lines of . . .
Demarcation, biased no-return points like
The bag I’m in.

Hard-pressed but not distressed
Nor defined by lack or abundance
Of that mean-green god so cherished
In a world full of reluctance . . .
A stimulus to imagine identity is equal to
The bag I’m in.

God holds plumb line against walls:
Greed, Ignorance, Selfishness;
To warn that leaning walls will fall
And expose wrong choices; times . . .
When people ignored personalities akin to
The bag I’m in.