Wednesday, August 29, 2018

Thoughts on Work


The skin on my hands is raw
My eyes feel full and tired
My back is stiff and worked
The third cup of coffee 
wakes my numb lips
just the same as the first one didn't 
Welcome to exhaustion 
It is uncomfortable 
and satisfying 
in a blue collar kind of way
in a good worker bee 
well trained minion
proud and strong 
ain't nobody got my back but me
kind of way
It is honest work
that holds it all together 
keeps my feet on the ground
kills my horse at the end of the day
keeps me in my place in the world 
My wings nicely folded in place
And I could do it
until my body fell apart 

I wonder how long that would take
since I am no spring chicken
so I am told
and furthermore 
my head has been full 
of different dreams 
ever since I hatched 
Dreams that are starting to squawk at me
Scream through my knees
Gasp in the weak center of my back
Moan over pulled muscles
Wince with arthritic fingers
Fingers that were meant for different work
Work that can only be made by these hands
But the hands on the clock are ticking
And it is getting louder
Steels my sleep and wakes my dreams
Opens my eyes with 
Morning anxiety 
Fills my mind with Poetry
why is it 
that I do my best work
when I am empty
Welcome to exhaustion 


I have a tick in the tock of my brain 
When the work day is done
and the quiet sets in
and I am supposed to be resting 
any repetitive 
cyclical noise
The whir of a fan
Dripping rain drops 
The softest of snores
Click clack of a clock
It is the persistent pattern 
on to which 
my mental engine latches 
Must each round of sound
insist on stirring up questions 
Within a pot of stew
That should already be done?
My ears turn red 
from the fire 
that still burns in the hearth
scorching the contents 
whenever it is left to sit still 
for too long 
I get up 
in an insomniatic smoke alarm 
and rip the clock off the wall
so my mind can have 
a piece of sleep 
for the mere possibility 
of turning down 
the records of regret and repeat
so maybe I can sleep in peace 
A pause is all I'm asking for
Just a break from 
that life doesn't get any longer
It only gets shorter 
That a watched pot 
never boils 
But the watching 
The listening 
The ticking 
isn't about what has already 
been done
It is about what 

Saturday, August 18, 2018


There are brains inside this monster 
She is always trying to change 
the way I think
what I say
how I behave 
Reading books 
Listening to philosophy 
Running out of the cave where we live
Searching for the sunshine
Crap like that

But that’s ok
For I have an army
of dark cloud overlords 
who walk amongst her circle 
speak in tongues only she can understand
Wreck her heart with whispers 
Cut her throat with comebacks
Flood her mind with history 
every chance they get
So I can pull her back in 
hold her close
with these long strong arms of mine
All I have to do is wait 
Even the sunshine
disappears behind the clouds