These apparitional jaunts, haunt
these halls, taunt
these tall
tales
I tell myself.
Face the facts:
Paul Bunyan swung his axe
still failed to fell the trees.
Paul Sheldon, tied up on his back
fumbled at the keys.
Saul was on the learning track
till the light brought him to his knees.
Humbled, bumbling fumble:
If it causes you to stumble
cut it off.
Do not let your left hand
know
what the right
is doing.
Some day
I’ll write that letter.
Blinded by the thought
as light is shed
on another
path.