Poem written as self-indulgent procrastination, about my goals, when I should be taking concrete steps towards realising a life in which I am able to find enough time to write poems

Today I want to learn:

what is causing me to sneeze

how to care for the right knee I've suddenly developed

what a sprocket and what a cassette and what all the bike parts look like, so I can take care of the month-old clicking sound

whether it's worth writing to all the people I stopped contacting for minor perceived slights, or out of laziness, or fortune, over the past months and years

which plants prosper where, given the constraints of the flat

BOOMING IN THE BACKGROUND, OR AS AN ASIDE, THERE'S A VOICE: BUT I HAVE TO DO A MAJOR PROJECT, DUE TOMORROW! THIS IS ALL JUST NOISE.

more broadly, what I should do next

or if there should be a next?

what is a good thing to be doing for a while when you're in your forties?

is there anything that would seem likeable to be doing then?

do I have it as good as it will get already, and yet still complain?

how about a skincare regime, or

how to tie good knots

some words in Dutch

also the Italian and Polish courses I started last year

(because I finished flirting with German and Spanish)

maybe Chinese, Russian or Arabic, for an internatonal career

but is it all just more noise on different frequencies?

shouldn't I be focusing on:

how to block out the noise

and carry out an idea

like write a poem?

Certainly that, too, is more noise,

and it doesn't help me sort anything out,

but it will be nice to me, for just this past moment.