exercise vii

things suck.
so i am told.
vacuums suck.
pumps suck.
things do suck. 

exercise vi

pitchers and catchers will soon be reporting.
spring is upon us, no matter the weather.

for one hundred sixty-two days we’ll exercise our care for the vernal, then summery, then autumnal gladiators, hoping that they aren’t performance-enhanced, praying that they aren’t testosterony buffoons. for one hundred sixty-two days we’ll ride the undulations and hope that our guys will emerge victorious at least eighty-two times. that leaves eighty heartbreaks, disappointments, outrages, as well as several handfuls of hair piled at the foot of the couch or desk or hiding between the mattress and the wall when the boys are on the west coast.

pitchers and catchers will be reporting soon.

exercise v

if i were to commit to thinking
for at least fifteen minutes daily,
then i’m sure the daily bread would be of absolutely no consequence.
yet ask and i receive
   seek and find
      knock   and   it   shall   be   opened.

so think.
so read.
so write.

have a take.
don’t suck. 

exercise iv

an inkless pen is a feckless foe
and certainly no ally.
allies are found in places darker
than an empty inkwell.
   they stick close by;
      they press in and around;
         they invade but
      do
   not
conquer.