Each morning I write something in my notebook…

Oh faithful pal, so receptive,
Here I am again with self-loathing.
Okay, sometimes I’m confident
As a gleaming bicycle.
And the man who writes
Is known only to you.

You whose thoughts are not of this world.
You cheap mystic.

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto