Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Milepost
Worn dentition,
blurred vision,
and I'm losing strength
and dexterity on my strong side.
Hair gone grey now
almost entirely
and pushing back
revealing deeper
lines, darker circles,
sagging bags.
And as in the case
of lactose, I've lost
my tolerance for
most of the rest of it
and because of that
I'm a whole lot less
pleasant to be around
nowadays
blurred vision,
and I'm losing strength
and dexterity on my strong side.
Hair gone grey now
almost entirely
and pushing back
revealing deeper
lines, darker circles,
sagging bags.
And as in the case
of lactose, I've lost
my tolerance for
most of the rest of it
and because of that
I'm a whole lot less
pleasant to be around
nowadays
Friday, January 27, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sound Effects
An overnight shift, a quiet one,
so I was paid not to work,
but to be available - I was on retainer.
the challenge was to multi-task,
to get paid and get my rest at the same time,
to conserve my resources and maximize my profit margin,
the practical challenge was to endure the
strange and witless cackling of other people,
the blunted dialogue seeping fractured through the wall
past the white noise machine inches from my head,
to be able to surrender myself to sleep, to give myself over completely,
and then to endure the sudden coitus interruptus of a slamming door which,
after the next twenty times, twists your reality, makes you believe
there must be a parade going on out there, a drug raid, Carnivale,
a legion of zombies, a demented toddler in the building -
opening and slamming, opening and slamming, opening and slamming.
you would feel so much better about all mankind if someone would, just once,
close the door gently, mindfully, and with consideration for others.
you startle each time, another flail's lash to your Christ-like sensibilities,
yet, after a while, almost with a grin you
understand that sleep is not really yours to have,
she is not yours to enjoy,
you can only take what she gives you - a cuddle, a wink, the sweet suggestion of bliss,
what the hell, it's a paycheck.
so I was paid not to work,
but to be available - I was on retainer.
the challenge was to multi-task,
to get paid and get my rest at the same time,
to conserve my resources and maximize my profit margin,
the practical challenge was to endure the
strange and witless cackling of other people,
the blunted dialogue seeping fractured through the wall
past the white noise machine inches from my head,
to be able to surrender myself to sleep, to give myself over completely,
and then to endure the sudden coitus interruptus of a slamming door which,
after the next twenty times, twists your reality, makes you believe
there must be a parade going on out there, a drug raid, Carnivale,
a legion of zombies, a demented toddler in the building -
opening and slamming, opening and slamming, opening and slamming.
you would feel so much better about all mankind if someone would, just once,
close the door gently, mindfully, and with consideration for others.
you startle each time, another flail's lash to your Christ-like sensibilities,
yet, after a while, almost with a grin you
understand that sleep is not really yours to have,
she is not yours to enjoy,
you can only take what she gives you - a cuddle, a wink, the sweet suggestion of bliss,
what the hell, it's a paycheck.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
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