Lost And (Not) Found Poem by Richard Phipps

In shadows of morning,
when shapes appear from what's left of the night,
(half-light,)

I put on(haphazard) shoes and socks,
(not necessarily in that order)
and contemplate the day.

Tumbling unknown,
out of darkness.

Fumbling mightily with that light,
and knobby joints once limber with youth.

Fingers and thumbs all a frazzle,
as new sunlight makes shapes full of twisting, turny flashes.

Pardon the repetition,
as it seems I know nothing at all.

There's something here and there,
but I'm not sure what.

Pardon the interruption,
as it seems I go on and on.

Pinch me before it goes away,
and is lost altogether.

Pardon the interruption,
as it seems I show nothing at all,

but flashes of thoughts in the wave of a hand,
going back to dinosaur time.

November 28,2011