Another summit to surmount. A tree to climb. Training wheels to remove. A heating pad to place. A nose to reset. As the year winds up, & winds down, I am looking for more ways to stretch myself across space & time. A few lines. A missed bedtime. A screaming alarm & assignments undone. Only to take a part in that which I have left behind. I will write these poems on these napkins, & other cliché pieces of refuse. But this time, I write them self reflexively. Self-consciously. Like Hegel’s divided self. Someone should have introduced him to Buddha. Then he wouldn’t read like such a bore. or at least it wouldn’t take another essay of longer length to explain what his his original essay was about. I should be in bed. But I would only turn & toss until I typed these senseless meanderings on this computer, into this screen, for this blinking cursor to find something better to do than to just blink. The cursor is almost as boring Hegel. But at least I wrote the first of 30. Happy April.