Pondering Whitman
After good night
I didn’t write Genghis Khan
I played some war games
I didn’t do very well, but it looked like I might pull through
The more he pondered the more he focused less on what he thought
And more on
Not on, but in
Or inside
But what is inside me cannot separate
Itself from what is without it
His cold body was pulling
Pulling at the possibility of his mind
(Or was his mind pulling and his body warm)
The bug that landed on my computer
Is a pest. By many definitions he is a pest
So big, too armored for me to think that squashing him would be easy
Typing away so that bug will think that I’m working hard on this paper about Genghis Khan
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