(x = space)
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Tomorrow Should Be Much Like Today
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I don’t know what to say
Am I confused?
Perhaps
I mean, I try to write every day
Not because I have to
Or because of a tontine
Between poets, as the
Romantics tried
Though they wrote with form
And complex thought
And feeling
Typically, I end up with
More than one thing
And I choose
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Sometimes I surprise myself
And choose the thing
I wasn’t planning on
(as things came out)
And publish that
I’d say discovery is fun,
And it is
Though it is surprise
Becomes the main thing
When it happens
I suppose they go together
Discovery and surprise
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I write based on
What’s happening in the world
And inside me
And if I haven’t thought of
Something spiritual, then
I guide my thoughts that way,
Which sounds forced
Well, maybe a contrivance
Again, I try to keep discovery
In the mixture, as a baker
Or mixologist might see it
Prayer, Bible, interrogative—I try
To take up problems
And solutions
Or else things that matter
In a smaller, more day-to-day way
Where we live
With our souls and God
Trying to know each other,
Eke out a life together
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There is community
I’m aware of
Maybe matching something like
Thornton Wilder’s echelons
That Rebecca recounts—you know,
Citizen of Earth and such
I am Robin,
Living in a house
Along a street that’s old and busy
In the small town (borough) of
Mechanicsburg
In the commonwealth of Pennsylvania,
One of the MidAtlantic states
In the U.S.A. (a country without
its own good name
because America is also
north and south
of us),
Living in the northern hemisphere
And the western as well,
Underneath the moon that
Orbits ‘round my planet
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I am a citizen of Earth,
The third planet from our sun
In a system of nine or eight planets
(we’re still arguing about the
count, though I’ve thought
since I was a child about
another planet out there
to make the system ten or nine)
But, anyway,
A member of my solar system
In a spiral galaxy
Called the Milky Way
With another galaxy called
Andromeda by us—I don’t know what
The folk out there might
Call themselves—nearby,
Galactically speaking
And there’s the mind of God
By God’s own hand
How we were made and how
We’re sustained,
Despite the agenda of human greed that
Would rather have its own way
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I believe in Jesus
Others await Messiah
Others live in Messiah
Others own Muhammad,
The prophet and the teachings–and
There are those who
Follow the Buddha
And those who want the Hindu
Godhead
And still others who follow other ways
With other entities and names
For God
And those who follow none
And I have to say
I do not mind, which makes for bad
Evangelism but also makes for
Respectful living
And I figure we need respect
More than singularity for now
Otherwise, we might not exist
To have all the arguments
About belief
Or lack thereof
That should only happen
In congenial ways,
Not with life on the line
For anyone
Believing, not believing
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And so I’m done for now,
This day
It is autumn, my favorite season
For the thrill of cold
With the presence of new colors
That, to me, make everything
More interesting
I like the other seasons, too,
Happy to have them all
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C L Couch
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Our Town by Thornton Wilder. The dialogue referred to happens near the end of Act 1.
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By Philipp Salzgeber – http://salzgeber.at/astro/pics/9703293.html, CC BY-SA 2.0 at, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=184641
Hale–Bopp in 1997
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