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I’ve accepted paper clips, rusted

when I should have chosen binder clips, the fancy kind

bigger the better, easier to keep all of me in one place.


I’ve kept myself in messy stacks

papers sticking to other papers and other stacks

useless copies, rereading what I’ve written twice already.


I’ve favorite pens that I neglect

Leave the tops off, shortening the lifespan

losing them besides, lost are all the sharpened pencils.


I’ve settled myself in disarray

chaos is the only proof there’s order, a cosmic alphabet

no need refiling, misfiled is worse.

SOB with me

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