It Can Sometimes Does, poetry by Tom Pennacchini at

It Can Sometimes Does

It Can Sometimes Does

written by: Tom Pennacchini


I am looking out the window with my classical on as I ponder the rigmaroles of existence discussing such with the most fascinating person I know.
Every time I feel I’ve made a valid point or observation during my ongoing convo I like to whip off my glasses to add further emphasis
while highlighting a point that’s been made salient and to add further punctuating resonance landing on a note redolent of conversational flair. For example as I gaze out
I reflect to myself on the virtues of eschewing the virtual for the sake and embracement of tactility and doing the sharp clean whip on eschew.
When I revelate that the only thing remaining is to become a saint there is a slow whipping on become. Like that.

Happenstance can work well and good sometimes.

Oh sweet exquisiteness, as I lovingly prepare an afternoon aperitif and just now at the ready of the first gentle sip (lord how I love my ceremonies!) the radio crows out “heroes” – Ah yes, aglow and
a flow, I duly proceed to an illuminated bask.

The heart of the matter resides in the entire lonesomeness of the venture, and so dream, a much needed break from the prosaic, makes fantasy a much vaunted ally.
So it goes, the garden of eden and myself with a menagerie of profound friendships and equipped with a fleet of canines are baying in unison at the rising moon each eve over the waters.

I think of a bovine at dusk by the side of a country road, looming and ruminating. Life can be so wonderful! And indeed the cat never ceases to contribute the phenomenal
and to provide blessed insight into all things seriously absurd, a well rounded tutorial in surrealist burlesque,
It welcomes and relieves one from the strangulating confinements of love and isolation, providing a delightfully futile longing
for unencumbered innocence and a bit of air.

So it goes, the gallivanting ambition is to string two good days in a row together.

But for now, synchronicity dovetails to a tee and a thickening
of well and good in the here/now of slow nothing.

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