Posted in: manifest, philosophy, poem

#18 Freshly Ironed

We exist therefore we think
I think that I am
that thoughts come to me
without me thinking that they should come my way
they fill me

tapping on each other’s shoulders
I doubt therefore I am
it feels as if I exist
because I think that I am
right here thinking
about a place I once were

I don’t think out loud like beads
on a pegboard

the pattern is done
once it has been ironed and is swaying
in the window and the sunlight pene
trates the holes
not before

We have the right to think what we want
to think and what we would rather not think

I believe in poetry
that is my right and in humankind
I  cannot muster the verve to believe that is my freedom
to refrain from that I doubt
myself and all the rest and do not need
to take flight for the sake of my blue thoughts
my March-brown expressions
for my swarm of thoughts proving that I am

 

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