In Praise of Fingernails

This morning i awoke
to find that a screwdriver
had grown
on the end of each finger.

O wonderful world,
where the body grows
the means of procurement
and repair!

What awaits?
What calls to us?
We are made to build
and to mend --
our fingertips
attest to this.

i am my own set of tools,
gone off into the world
in search of all
that needs


Procrastination and Fear

Prophesies defeat

Sees the future as sealed
Guarantees what it fears

i fear
Blind corners

Delivers all of these

And yet:
What other creature
Can procrastinate?

Who else
Among God's creatures
Can name their fear of failure?

i bow
To the great gray emptiness
Of my inertia --

And to my ability
To name it
And draw it near.

Perhaps, later,
i will leap tall buildings
In a single bound . . .

--Mr. Gobley