Does it bother -you
the way tinsel hangs
on the tree
or static waves -adjust
to every thing
and then we discuss?
i wonder where i am going with this poem? It hit me… wham! while brewing the morning coffee. It feels unfinished. Perhaps i do have more planned days ahead… another round of coffee, poured. Another night to contemplate what swims in my head.
In everyone’s “I’m not going to be phony, phoniness… ”
Ah, I just need to gripe to someone.
I can feel the volcanic ash rising. I’ve been burnt… smoldering for years. I need to release the trash compiled… hidden in recesses and crevices and tunnels.
Cut the crap! Get to the point! I leaf through the Sears Catalog, make my Christmas list, and it includes all I missed, being an adult. How did i miss childhood? While being my brother’s mother, my mother smothered me with her tears. I drowned in her fears.
Will i find my happiness in a bankrupt business? Maybe i can get in on that gig? Or rather i should roam the empty streets where dollar bills are strapped to soul-less shoes?
Is an egret an egret
or of another name
first determine nesting habits
and scope out long cafeteria lines
hungry is, as was,
nothing ever satisfies…