the platitudes of willful resemblance

I’m down

here

to see

if I can

write something

surrounded by

red walls

and

Micael Chadwick paintings

with various books

from philosophy

to poetry to

religion

listening to

the classical station

of which

I am a member

for the

amazing

yearly fee

of 90 dollars

and drinking

my preferred

black coffee

in a porcelain mug

and I keep thinking

of Tantalus

head above water

hands

out of reach of

fruits or leaves

hell is sleeping

all day with

nothing to write

the world

just

out of reach

the monkey sits

on a pile

of stones

and stares

at the open book

in his

hand