Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .

Mondays are just young Fridays

The clock and the calendar move
forward incrementally, naturally
(as it should be) from a darker
winter we can’t leave behind to
something resembling spring.
In-between our seasons we take
whatever we can, where we are.
We have little choice.
A less-than-enthusiastic forecast
glares at me from a mobile device,
with greater chance of soakers
more than once or twice in the
week ahead as atmospheric rivers
come down to earth (a convenient
excuse for all it’s worth).
April showers still to come, as it
happens, as it is always done, we
keep moving forward step-by-step
mainly in spite of the weather.

03/27/2023                                                                                                             j.g.l.

of interest

your knowledge is
your currency

save up for what
you need or desire

there is interest
in your wisdom

03/26/2023                                                                                        j.g.l.

all my flaws

Who can you blame?
Are the feelings unjust when a decision is a matter of knowing you must find fault or favour with the ill winds of change?
It is never enough to simply rearrange plans or predicaments. It is like making a prediction of all my flaws with my faith as fractured or fragile as it is, or has been.
Far easier to see what I haven’t been doing.

03/24/2023                                                                                                         j.g.l.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Look Away

Posted on April 7, 2021 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Gather, you beggars. Assemble 
like pigeons, seeking morsels of kindness 
on these filthy city streets. We notice but do not acknowledge.  
Or apologize. 
I cannot deal with all I see. 
Any spare change? No answer. No chance.  
I saunter by in my warm parka, well-rested, belly full 
of breakfast. I know no hunger, though not immune  
to the pang. Sunglasses shield my eyes.  
I have witnessed too much. 
There, but by the grace of God, go I. 
They remain. Unrecognizable 
even to those who have loved them. A person’s sister, somebody’s  
brother, somebody’s child. A somebody; 
another vacant bed or private hell 
another excuse or story to tell. 
We do not want to hear. 
Nor dare to breathe. Ask no questions. 
I am only what I ask myself to be. If 
charity begins at home, what then of the homeless? Nothing. 
I know where I will sleep tonight. 
Ashamed. I do little but look away. 
Filthy pigeons stare back.  
Then scatter. 
2021 j.g. lewis

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