Happiness is the thought of ….


Happiness? What’s that?

A full stomach. A short memory.

Two coins jingling a song in the pocket.

Yeah, that’s it.

Happiness not the thing but


not the finger but the ring

the living not here but there


reality always disappointing the nervy hare.


Who wants that any “way”?

Let me sleep in this hay

smelling death, where I lay.

Here I do, get things done

living as living comes.

Slow, I capture reality.


Happiness that shiny bead

not for me.

I prefer to do — unnoticed lead

not content with content

but to be what’s meant

even if that not be

a full stomach, coins jingalingaling.

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