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Click herewhat troubles you pilgrim?
is it your wandering eye?
with your head in the clouds
the days must just blow by
your eyes look ahead
but your gaze is turned in
less concerned with your path
than where you could have been
your blood's almost boiling
your pressure's off-chart
but what can you expect
from a dislocated heart?
and what's that expression
atop your weak chin
is that a cockeyed smile
or a shit-eating grin?
you shoulder your burdens
though you've mentioned enough
a lifetime of curveballs
weakened your rotator cuff
just look at the callouses
on your idle hands
perhaps someone else
has been making your plans
and this organ right here
it's suspiciously clean
it appears that too often,
you've vented your spleen
take a rest, lonesome pilgrim
assign the first watch
to the seeing-eye dog
attached to your crotch
close your red blood-lust eyes
until a new day
take off the track shoes
from your feet of clay
say a prayer with me now
soul and body be healed
before your lips and your fate
are both sealed
This poem was selected from Lit's archive of over 40,000 poems for inclusion in today's Archival Review.<br>
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...remember a poem of yours I did not enjoy. You've done better than this, but this too held me from the jump. If you write, I read it.