What a disturbing sensation
like a spider
crawling
beginning
to weave
a web
from the base of my throat
to any part of my face
within reach
leaving
me
without speech
pawing
in disbelief
at my mouth and neck
in a repeated
now desperate
clawing
for relief
It’s odd
that
as I feel better
my writing gets worse
linguistically brittle
like some progressive curse
going grammatically
in reverse
mouthing lots
saying little
the antithesis of terse
My worry
is in a hurry
these days
trying to see
if it can catch up
to
my anxiety
Some days
I'm thin ice
waiting to break
sometimes
too brittle
to withstand
the wind
of the day
with little
to give
too tired to fake
In some ways
I'm already broken
the sounds
I make
never spoken
silently
mouthing
heartbreak
Don’t ignore me
no more morning snubs
I’ll just roll over
for my expected
tummy rubs
feel free to scratch me
there and here and here
and don’t forget
it’s still your job
to scratch behind my ears
Your resolution
to be heroic
to stay
strong
and stoic
disappears
the day
that coughing
turns to hacking
turns to choking
turns to fear.
If only tears
would take away
the pain
you'd weep
oceans
We are family
we are friends
bleary-eyed
partitioned
hidden
by a flimsy curtain
divide
uncertain
as to when
the helping
begins again
but
as we rise
from hard chairs
shadow pairs
straightening from bent
we are certain
in our love and care
and why we are there
If I write about resentment
if I show you my dismay
will you worry
about my state of mind
or look the other way
because
I just can't sanitize
or compromise
the truth of what I say
I just can't make it
warm and sweet
if it's really bleak and gray
and frankly
I just can't be
any other way;
so I'm all in
you don't get some
you get all of me
brilliant or dumb
happy or glum
nothing left
undone
or unsaid
lest
I return
to being numb
instead
You wait to hear it
you ache to feel it
but it
never comes
and with hope
having bled
out
with the saddest soliloquy
ever said
you shout
your lines
and play the fool
instead
Gaunt faces
haunt these places
the pace chaotic
without progress
more cases
than staff
the full moon
no laughing
matter
incessant chatter
can’t silence
the cries of pain
that lace the air
the patients can no longer breathe
nor bear
A doctor tried to insist
though I was
old enough to resist
that I should
take a drug
that would
speed me up
to slow me down
but would
change my rainbow hues
to muddy brown
and shift my words
from action verbs
to stodgy nouns.
But I couldn’t
be a subject
they would
ossify
and easily classify
because I just knew
I was a predicate
kind of guy
I know it
the way
my bones know
the rain
that something’s changed
between us
something’s not the same.
Did we move too fast?
Has the moment passed?
Is it forever lost?
At what cost?
Is it fair?
Was it ever really there?
It's been so long
I’ve seen your face
heard your voice.
Are we now
just
a broken string
a tune sung wrong?
A light-hearted roast
of a well-watered post
Here amidst the clutter
and the disarray
I mutter
that “out of chaos
comes brilliance”
but instead of being true
or at least
a clever linguistic display
it’s merely reliance
on an ill-conceived
sadly uttered
stale cliché
In your eyes
I see
an intensity
that compels,
a fierceness
that can mesmerize,
a beauty
that I realize
shows
no guile or guise
only
honestly
and endless
possibility
No
no thanks
I'll pass
no I couldn't
it's not for me
I respectfully decline
no I wouldn't
like to share
(but you keep trying)
I really can't
I'm well beyond I shouldn't
it's to where
it crosses the line
to I won't,
no never
not for you
not for anyone
no matter how clever
you are
with your promises and lies
of how good it was before
no matter what the disguise
it's still no
and the more you insist
the more I'll resist
until you let go
and if you really want to know
I can tell you why
it's wrong
and show you
the damage it can do
Near swaying boats
on the beach
hot sand lies
beneath
my feet.
I am content
complete
mesmerized
by the blue
water/sky
I reach
for
a cold drink
as I sink
with the sun
into welcome
languor
stirred
finally
by the wafting
lure
of fish
on the grill.
I wish
only to
freeze time
until
I can
return
again
and
again
year
after
year
to the clear
turquoise sea
to the chatter
on the streets
to the clatter
of the carts
that greet
my ears
to the smell of sugar
from the square.
I am to the point where
when I'm not here
I stare
blinded by winter's glare
and dream
I'm there
of warm Isla nights
of Hidalgo's neon lights
strolling on
the malecón
in the soft cool air
without a care
in the world.
Near swaying boats
on the beach
hot sand lies
beneath
my feet.
I am content
complete
mesmerized
by the blue
water/sky
I reach
for
a cold drink
as I sink
with the sun
into welcome
languor
stirred
finally
by the wafting
lure
of fish
on the grill.
I wish
only to
freeze time
until
I can
return
again
and
again
year
after
year
to the clear
turquoise sea
to the chatter
on the streets
to the clatter
of the carts
that greet
my ears
to the smell of sugar
from the square.
I am to the point where
when I'm not here
I stare
blinded by winter's glare
and dream
I'm there
of warm Isla nights
of Hidalgo's neon lights
strolling on
the malecón
in the soft cool air
without a care
in the world.
TS Elliot wrote,
and I quote,
"I have measured out my life
in coffee spoons"
but
I measure mine
in intravenous lines
stacking time
in hospital rooms
writing
rhymes
holding close
the moments
I spend
caring for
my love
my dearest
friend
Conscious contact is a kind of total body awareness of connection. Normally, there’s so much going on in my brain, competing for my attention, that there’s a constant cacophony of noise. Conscious contact is quieter, not competitive, assured, confident, and with a semblance of peace. It’s the definition of knowingness.