Another Day

Stress goes straight to my neck;
muscles seizing,
grasping at themselves, so
each new grip, just
binds them tighter,
heat builds up,
throbbing, and kicking at shoulder joints.

Frustration and pain.
God Damnit, exhale,
Slow breath.

I massage at them
violently,
trying to relax the muscles.

My head's held at an angle,
hand massaging rebelious neck muscles,
into submission,
grimace on face,
beard long in front,
balding head cut close,
eyes intense,
marching down the
quiet white halls
of wherever i work.

I look out from my angry
frustrated head;
the world is askew.
I'm looking for some way that
it will change.
A way the future will make it
better, easier to bear,
more tolerable.

I want to have time alone,
to think,
to be at peace for extended periods of the day,
to write,
to study,
to create something
for people like me.

I keep looking,
but the older I get,
the less hopeful
it looks,
that there is anything but
more daily suffering,
not understood
by those who appear to
feel good today.

I can't appear to
feel any way other than i do.
Its a failing of mine,
this involutary honesty.
I often wonder,
how many people
walking, these same white office hallways,
feel the way I do
but never show it,
never let on?

the chair (friends of the dentist)

walking off the dock the next day
in short sleeves
& track mark in my arm
i felt clean, & my muscles felt strong
my veins were thick, swollen from labor

this new thing
was better than pot
so much cleaner in the head
pot can be a dirty drug
like tobacco, a nasty habit
hamper up the neural connections
slow down the thinker

i was on to something here
a new peak experience
here’s something to work
for
a week, two weeks, maybe
just a night, hard, strong,
indelible, like a new believer
that’s died for God

{{{{}}}}}}

there are directions to take in this life
& there are hours to waste
& there are thousands of ways
to avoid that ache.

& still, i cannot carry it
cannot name it, describe it
cannot share it. i know
how to dodge it
for a while.

i grieved
a full year
& longer.
she was there also
not wanting to live
but afraid to die

cloudy morning, no call no show, warming in god power choice on a bench beside the river walking path

water fills in a valley
flows through
now it is flat
like a shimmering parking lot
"it is a very soothing garden
you just want to stay there"
one after another fighter
scars, rip the guts of
the sky
the sky guard trembles
the river's unhindered
"he said, feed it w/
vitamin D
so I did
& they're huge
& they're blooming."
the tow-boat has the drone
of a bass drum
& the tenor of chopped
up waters
dog walkers
reckon the sky freight
joggers scuff their breath
"she'll let 'em out
& they'll potty."
prominent nipples through a jogging suit
a neck & wrinkled face
"see what the new James Bond
is like
well, he has blue eyes."
the moisture from the damp
wood bench has transmitted
to the seat of my pants
married pairs ambulate
w/ empty mouths, wordless thought
then it is all clear
the morning people
go home to their nests
to cook bacon & eggs
abandon the birds
more chirps of worms
& songs for murder
& i am w/ them
outside of the program
& the warehouse
of moving boxes
where
they've registered me
to be.