Poems February 2010

Twenty-8

2:14
2/27
Too long, too tired
Too beaten up to care.

Now it's 2:15
And it's tomorrow
A new day

God, at 2:16 make into a new man
Such that to others I'm different and to me, somewhat the same

 

February 28, 2010

110

Fresh washed pillows
Don't help
Those guys
Guys like that
Saw through the house
We return to it
Notice nothing too wrong to cause our speaking
And then we are out
Old with gray clothes

 

February 27, 2010

Tonight

I close my eyes and still see light
Softened blobs of it

And I wonder at it in my eyes or rather
It is deeply held in my imagination

Sleep now, boy.

February 26, 2010

Ok

The window at half-mast
Simply leave it
Along with the socks
As they are on the floor
And those unpaid bills

There are people to call
And lazy chatter over
Small meals

Then a walk past closed shops
On a street the reminds visitors
Of another place, reminding us of where we aren't.

 

February 25, 2010

Late

The night walks on
Past your particular disease
And down the path from your summit in 1997
The vintage that was bottled never to be even tasted
Thrown out instead with all the plans and sketches and other garbage you still carry and cannot put down

Even tonight
when there is a woman and rain
You are alone in your head
counting your curses

February 24, 2010

Another

When will you learn what you are?
the slow rain asked

Look at your little house,
your job,
that car...
Isn't it clear?

Her voice cracked and choked
But already he was gone

 

February 23, 2010

Who 22

where are you
when you're right beside
wherever I might be
where I am or what I am
or who I might be
is of minor concern
why worry
why bother
why question
why hike into these strange foothills
where even you dread walking
with me living
with me is so difficult
when I will live like a hermet
while you stand in an empty yard
while I eat alone

 

February 22, 2010

Ticking Dust

The ticking dust
Climbs over the headboard
And down onto the pillows

Alarms are set
Children tucked

And still the ticking dust
Climbs down over me

My feet search for cold spots under the blankets
And the weight of worn clothes
As I search for a dream from which I cannot awake

February 21, 2010

#20

My feet hurt
Sympathetic to the wanderings of my mind
I walk miles and never move

But most of all, I'm wearing out from the outside in

I'm wearing inward
One day to become a ball
A round milkdud of a human
Up all day, boxed at night

 

February 20, 2010

A Nachtpoem

A man proceeds drifting down the street
He smells something we can't smell

We smell home fires, grilling, pies and cakes baking, the common home smells

But our man on the street licks his lips, opens the door to the house, closes it behind and shuts off the lights.

February 18, 2010
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