Am I tired
of embodying the dazzled gaze?
No, I’m still all fired-
up!—I retired
young so I could spend my days
making myself tired
with my indefatigable lyric
pen—its searching rays
that illuminate the sky and fire
the mountainside. I admire
everything I see, especially my own lazy
limbs stretched out tired
on a porch chair.
Not looking for praise
(I fired
my publicist on a warm dare).
Just happy that my eyes
and ears still work—I’m tired,
but I still catch fire.
