Smoking cigarettes,

listening

writing your thoughts as the street buzzes outside

well, what's better for you?

The hyper-valid productive motion springing from seething coils of popularity?

Or the unhampered valleys and stoops of virgin mind?  Swirling in its own presence, a swan

I malign and lose touch

I malign the seemingly benign and when the truth comes back

I hail its presence in my soul