desire to travel

early early in the morning

before the trees are even awake

i lean out the window

and focus my eyes

upon some distant spot

at the horizons edge

for a few wafting minutes

a spectacular sight

my eyes behold there no

birds/breeze/butterflies

scatter my attention

yet somehow i know

that if i were to go

to the place im yearning

eyes barely discerning

i still wouldnt find

the calm peace of mind

that slowly unravels

for someone who travels

im a nomad in chains

a vagabond cooped up

a wanderer in a glasshouse

an anchored migrant

soon it is noon and

the sun climbs the stairs to its

regal throne in a sky blue sky

but its sovereign kingdom

seems as inaccessible to me as

the sun itself

its been a lengthy

day/week/month/year

and its late

even the trees are asleep

its almost black now but

for a few stars

and the shades are drawn shut

but there is a lamp on beside me

so i let my eyes adjust

they meet your eyes

and i see my future

and i forget everything

before this moment

11.01

s.d.

At some God-awful late hour

At some God-awful late hour of evening (or maybe an early
     hour of morning)
I’m glancing down
an ooey gooey mess containing: cheese, milk (why the skim
     crap? it tastes like water) also I Can’t Believe It’s Not
     Butter spread
not solid liquid in-between it seeps rapidly approaching
     boundaries of the linoleum floor
the brand new brown carpet in the parlor finally replaced that
     God-awful shag rug
besides brown is a much more natural color for a tiny 1
     bedroom house than hippie green
shag rug and the parlor was a damn jungle does skim milk
     stain a brown carpet? well
Money is hard to come by so
I ain’t paying the carpet-man to replace a stained brown carpet

What does it matter...

Ascending the stair ascending
I am a mortal I can’t withstand overpowering fatigue languor
     sleep sleep
the bedroom on the left no that’s the bathroom keep going
Moments become millenia but the end is in sight
and a warm bed marks end of the trek
ah
it is so warm and soft
a nice bed is the best medicine
Does medicine actually make your body all better? or is it all
     in the mind
maybe the doctors are lying all conspiring against us ignorant
     folk perhaps
that God-awful Benadryl cherry-flavored cough syrup just
     makes us forget that our minds tell our bodies to get better
or
maybe the doctors are right and medicine makes us healthy is
     it healthy to go on a diet? what’s with
herbal stuff ya know Ginseng Belloa or Balboa or whatever it
     is/St John’s Wort/and all those teas they have (why don’t
     they make coffees?)
and fat or carbohydrates protein Adkins’ Diet—all protein
     how can that be good for you? nothing wrong with fat fat
and skim milk yuk skim milk is yukky tastes like water I’m
     gonna buy whole milk next time with the cream and the
     chunks the worst for your “health” hell it’s the best there is
     anyhow
I need to buy milk after all I hear
skim milk on the linoleum floor creeping
creeping slithering groping its way toward my new 1 bedroom
     house short brown carpet that
I just paid for

That feeling when you are lying in the sun next to the pool
and you are so content to just lie there until that huge
     annoying twerp
jumps in and gets you all wet well
that terrible feeling is toppled sixfold as I roll out of the bed
literally

ouch

I stand get my bearings
why do I stand? I dunno I walk walk out the door and trudge
across the floor to the room on my right no
that’s the bathroom the kitchen is in sight
Descending the stair descending
my feet wallow in the vast ooey gooey mess of fats and butter
     it
probably tastes yummy (so very hungry I am—how can
     anyone stay on a diet?)
but now my feet are cold so I look
no socks in the refrigerator

I am really tired
on the brink of collapse
into this yummy pile of products from the udder of a Holstein
why are speckled cows called Holsteins? I’ll add it to the list
     after all my mom is a librarian
ah
It must be some God-awful late hour of evening (or maybe an
     early hour of morning)
I’m glancing down

9.01
This work was inspired by June Jordan’s “Free Flight.”
s.d.

N. on a rainy eve

ah to be staring out at the moonswept pavement as
time slowly unfolds around me into soft cushy layers
and each passing moment leaves behind millions more
which for all i can tell seem to never run out

i cant stop my mind from creeping eerily towards
some unknown destinations places people like
what im gonna wear tomorrow and who im gonna see
and whos life could i change with a wave of the hand

the rain pitter patters too and i think about numbers
i contemplate god and friends and beef stew and love
yes love it is riveting and confusing and wonderful
all at once and seems to come from nowhere

certainly love is a coveted thing i know so i hold fast
and never relinquish it but i also have learned that
it floods you slowly and swamps you and you cant
wriggle free no matter how hard you force it

now ive been forewarned that love takes awhile so my
mind falls back towards what im gonna wear tomorrow
what classes i have and finally i resort back to the time
which im sure i will never run out of

9.01
It’s drizzling outside. After a spontaneous and satisfying evening, I’m content to sit in my comfy (if empty) apartment and savour the moment. There’s a flickering tinge of nostalgia and I feel older. I reread and relish the second stanza.
s.d.