The path of moderation

Too late to invent Modigliani
or write the Les Berceaux,
Mr Honk settled for vignettes
on the inherent insettleabilititude
of a whim: Isn’t that what
the intentionally blank pages
are for?


More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com

The stuck

I’ve heard that lovers are like buses—you have to wait for a little while,
and another one comes along; though I can’t help but add: unless the line
is closed for good, while you, unaware of it, are stuck at the bus stop,
tapping your feet and nervously checking a watch, afraid that your ride
will pass you by the moment you’ve given up and started walking.