In Which I End A Day Sucking On Lemon

Some days, I've realized, should never start.
No matter what I did today, 'twas wrong,
And only became more so though my art
My skill and my good will both felt quite strong
To fix what I had broken. As my work
Proceeded, one word only could describe
The outcome of my efforts: FAIL. There lurk
Still echoes of bad dreams of how my tribe
Has failed me, though I thought I overcame
That sense of loss this morning when, ere dawn
Some "ass-on-cushion" time (I cannot claim
This phrase as mine; the author's Isoban)
Brought me great peace and puzzlement. Oh how
That notion seems to me when viewed from now.


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