survival poem #17

because this is what you do. get up.
blame the liquor for the heaviness. call in late
to work. go to the couch because the bed
is too empty. watch people scream about love
on Jerry Springer. count the ways
it could be worse. it could be last week
when the missing got so big
you wrote him a letter
and sent it. it could be yesterday, no work
to go to, whole day looming.
it could be last month
or the month before, when you still
thought maybe. still carried plans
around with you like talismans.
you could have kissed him last night.
could have gone home with him, given in,
cried after, softly, face to the wall, his heavy arm
around you, hand on your stomach, rubbing.
shower. remember your body. water
hotter than you can stand. sit
on the shower floor. the word
devastated ringing the tub. buildings
collapsed into themselves. ribs
caving toward the spine. recite
the strongest poem you know. a spell
against the lonely that gets you
in crowds and on three hours' sleep.
wonder where the gods are now.
get up. because death is not
an alternative. because this is what you do.
air like soup, move. door, hallway, room.
pants, socks, shoes. sweater. coat. cold.
wish you were a bird. remember you
are not you, now. you are you
a year from now. how does that
woman walk? she is not sick or sad.
doesn't even remember today.
has been to Europe. what song
is she humming? now. right now.
that's it.

- Marty McConnell

You are in a state of constant expectation and want interesting and exciting things to happen to you. But in fact, you are a 'Walter Mitty' at times - a dreamer - over-imaginative and often given to fantasy or day-dreaming. There is nothing wrong in 'dreaming' - how boring life would be if one just followed the doctrines of everyday life - but one must not continue leading a life of continuous fantasy. You need to face reality in spite of all its possible shortcomings.

You are a leader and possibly at this tine in a position of authority, but you are experiencing problems. You are not quite sure how to handle the present situation.

Your involvements seldom measure up to your high emotional expectations and your 'needs' to be 'loved' and 'cared for' have in the past often led to extreme disappointment. But a change is in the wind - make a firm decision to start anew. Just 'think' it..and it will happen.

You are an emotional, sincere and impressionable individual experiencing frustration and unnecessary stress. You vehemently resist any form of pressure from outside sources, insisting on your independence as an individual. You want to be a decision maker - to make up your own mind without interference. You wish to be able to draw your own conclusions and arrive at your own decisions. You detest uniformity and mediocrity as you want to be regarded as one who gives authoritative opinions. Your favourite expression could well be that 'I may not always be right but I am never wrong'. You're a perfectionist and even though you may feel that the other person's point of view may be right, you find it extremely difficult to admit that you could be wrong.

You are greatly impressed by individuality and have interest in people who have outstanding qualities. You try to imitate those people that you admire and their characteristics, hoping that you will be able to display similar qualities in your own personality.

an excerpt of Little Sleep's-Head Sprouting Hair in the Moonlight byGalway Kinnell

If one day it happens
you find yourself with someone you love
in a café at one end
of the Pont Mirabeau, at the zinc bar
where white wine stands in upward opening glasses,

and if you commit then, as we did, the error
of thinking,
one day all this will only be memory,

learn,
as you stand
at this end of the bridge which arcs,
from love, you think, into enduring love,
learn to reach deeper
into the sorrows
to come – to touch
the almost imaginary bones
under the face, to hear under the laughter
the wind crying across the black stones. Kiss
the mouth
which tells you, here,
here is the world. This mouth. This laughter. These temple bones.

The still undanced cadence of vanishing.



 

an excerpt of Your Bed Is Too Small for Fucking and Poetry by Roger Bonair-Agard

 

so - get a bigger bed
one that can hold all the things
I still want to dream
but ready me a tiny corner on this one
so I can still get lost in you.