One Pass Through Poem, by Duran Mazzana, at My poetic side

Diagonal blinds,

sun aims for the bench,

not me.

Margins offer sight,

dwelling on Bourgainvilleas.

Their periodic nature of willfulness

refuses a clean-up.

I stack my one pass through

against its one of tons—

its lines’ continuum,

grants it surprise to everyone.

I can get jolted

from what’s to come,

and boredom can come,

and fortune can come,

and wisdom can come,

with prisms that numb—

and that’ll be it,

done and done.

One Pass Through