Supposing the Mind – Day 11.4.2018 NaPoWriMo

Snail

 

Supposing the Mind

 

Which will have remained the same.

 

Marginalia of the mind: a snail’s pace.

 

My mind the next cloud that floats by.

 

Two clouds at the same time, my mind for the moment.

 

Wings for my mind. This is my future.

 

My mind is the old pond seeking haiku.

 

Light shaft, you are the rail train of my mind

thundering on to the next station at first light of day.

 

Campfire and adventures, ancient oratory

stored for the mind’s re-interpretations.

 

Mind, I retrieve you from the bottom

of the clothes basket, just when you felt cosy.

 

Clothesline: what have I pegged my mind to.

 

A fold of the mind, laying my thoughts aside.

 

Skull, meet mind. Too many weird

ornaments in the garden of the mind.

 

Tree rings, the long life of the mind.

 

A haystack of a mind. A message for horses

and suddenly my mind has made a unicorn

of this.

 

A box of raisins, the mind reveals itself

in fragments of fruit. A wedge of orange

does not make of itself a whole thought.

 

Drawstring of the mind; but the mind

they say, never sleeps.

 

That, I allow, is the future of my mind.

 

Benita Kape © 11.4.2018

NaPoWriMo 2018 image

Day Eleven

Our (optional, as always) prompt for the day is taken from one of the prompts that Kwoya Fagin Maples suggests in here interview: a poem that addresses the future, answering the questions “What does y(our) future provide? What is your future state of mind? If you are a citizen of the “union” that is your body, what is your future “state of the union” address?”

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