This poem is unsarcastically dedicated to the 150+ individuals who apply for every job I apply for and everyone else who is job searching. You may be my competition, but we’re all in this together.
Zack Ford – May 2, 2010
I sing myself
With notes unwritten
The verse lost in trite strophes
Of years gone by.
I dream the Dream
I long knew a myth
For I know not what else to dream
And now wonder if I dream at all.
A crisp bell resonates
Through lofty windows summoning
But with nary a door to enter
I remain perched on hot rubber mulch.
The game plays on without a turn
The bell rings frequent irregular intervals
Soon a door will open for me
“Soon,” Godot says, “…soon.”