First of many

I wrote this poem for an exhibition at Gallery TS1.  The theme of the event is great achievements, so I decided to write about something small and seemingly insignificant, which, when considered under the umbrella of perspective, takes on huge and vital importance.  It's a poem without a title that I hope suggests more than it describes.

Untitled

I read Bukowski today
like he read the newspapers.

I dreamt of shaking someones hand
like he dreamt of crowds.

I fought the hours

and came out half victorious.

Tomorrow may get the better of me,

but for today

I'll read Bukowski
like he read the newspapers

and dream of shaking someones hand
like he dreamt of crowds.