if I could book a ship a trip to the moon to the stars no, beyond to float to soar escape humanity and the laws time and gravity the helix that binds release me from these bonds to soar to seek to feel the universe upon my hands, my feet yes, a road a path the guide of mind downloads a map a compass of consciousness glide a mind among the stars and what I may find – there – a realm of infinite possibility and life – my family.
“interrogation of flies“ I sit at my desk cigarette in hand half cocked, not lit ashtray, ashtrays no longer exist papers arranged by ear by year slop across the desktop or what the cat lady dragged in priorities rise and fall like a tide always coming in always high tide I would like to think I made something of this life wife, kids but no, here I am, here am I, mired in this, my domain, my cage.
notes… in my head I saw this beaten down disheveled lifer newspaper guy, who can’t smoke at his desk furiously anymore, and like any of us he misses the “good old days” regardless if they were actually good, they were the routine, and most of us fall in love with routine, but then we wind up, here and there, with a waking moment like “what the hell am I doing here?” and then it passes as furious and visceral as it felt, falls back to the routine, so this poem is not technically about me but definitely has some pieces of me in the bones…
and…. if you do me the honor of sharing my content, cool, please do, just a hint of credit would do nicely though on the karma meter, and thanks for the look, the read, your time, I appreciate it.