The Self

What kind of day was it. Clean

the house. Notice the full moon.

Read a sheaf of old poems.

Listen to jazz tunes. Open mail.

Refuse to make of it more

than it was. What is it for, 

don't ask. Squirrel or spider

your cares are yours to savor, 

enjoy or fear. Tinnitus

of the ear, sinusitis

of the nose, bale contriteness

of the soul. Moriturus.

Consider economy

soul's eponymity.

The opening canopy

panoramic mystery.

Neither joyful nor depressed.

Not the worst and not the best.

I lived, as did my dentist.

To the east and west, the self.

Author's Note

"The study of myself is the study of all I do not know." – --Montaigne