That second hand

Who keeps it spinning

Is he a cheetah or a sloth

A beam of light or a slug

When I was younger

He and I agreed

But now he’s out to get me

He’s not in a hurry at all

And so I wait and wait and wait

I’m angry with this guy

And he must know it

Or else he’s taking his break now

And has divorced himself

From caring at all about it

There can be yelling in the back space

In the back back hallway

Where the uncategorized is stacked

And if I were to guess

I would say that it is probably

Constant

It’s the trees of the forrest

They are making sounds

Loud screams and low moans

And some days it helps you through

And some days it breaks your soul

It emotes as a way

Of spilling over

Now and then

It is managing

And managing

You don’t have to know it

Open the chrysalis too soon

It’s just goo

And maybe that’s today

Maybe that’s now

Just a season of goo

From something

To something

A simply icky middle

Not without purpose

Formative

Necessary, of course

But a long long wait

And oh so much

Listening to the sound

Of your own breathing

And mostly just that

Pens that don’t write

Keyboards that don’t click

Yarns that don’t knit

Broken bulbs of hope

That used to light up

And will light up again

There’s bits of love on the page

A look back

One…Three…Five…Eight years

The whole thing is dotted

With a bit of ick of course

But for the most part

Splashes of joy

With glee overtones

And it’s worth noting

That it was all

A huge act

Of obedience and courage

Who even knew

That tenacity would leave

Such horrible scars

And would I do it again

What a horrible question

That no one is asking

And the truth of course

Is that I don’t have to

The point has already

Been made

It breathes

It lives

You are a breakout Lover of vagrant waves

Denying the roads of aimless these and theys

You are a Stunner in wholeness and white

Flanked by skill and sway at left and right

You are one giant Sire dripping divine

Singular and utterly and just and untimed

Massive and pivotal, required and scot-free

Untamed and unmuzzled, a river, a stream

You are like thread in a cross-stitched absolute

You are necessary and robust and astute

I know

Let’s ignore

The wolf

Of course

He needs

A pack

But couldn’t we

Just watch

As he creeps

Out onto

That thin ice

That wouldn’t

Make us be

Directly

To blame

Would it

I mean

Couldn’t we

Just say that

While it is true

We could have

Anticipated

The crash

We didn’t

Actually

Cause the cold

Or the numb

Or the blue

Or the drowning

Or the death

It would be

Quite a shame

However

I’m sure

We’d all

Agree

On that

I could tell you were a man-made lake

Wanted there and then

To bring the city to a sigh

And calm the busy busy motorways

I could tell you were a fantasy team

Extend the play here and now

And keep us young and playing on

Until our minds follow our bones

I could tell you were an acoustic kick drum

Keeping time in a muted way

Important and weighty to steady the band

But aggressive and headache-inducing

I could tell you were a skyscraper mural

From the moment we met

Cause wow – such size – such scope

But 1-dimensional is 1-dimensional

I could tell you were a drone

Only sent to spy on my past

Only sent to record and verify

What you knew all along

Even if wrapped

3-feet deep in wrapping paper

You would still not be a gift

At least not for me

Sure I still smile when I see you

I have an unfailing fondness for you

But as for the day to day

I’ve lost my sense of smell and taste

When it comes to you

A piece has died and broken off

And I can’t resuscitate my heart

My patience has left the station

And I’m really ok with that

Because I know and you know

That I poured into you with vigor

I gave and gave and gave

And have never regretted a minute

I invited you into everything

And built you a big ole stage

I listened to every whine and complaint

And watched everyone shrug

When you flipped out

And showed yourself

Again and again

And again and again

See, I’m simply spent

Still for you

Not over you

Simply spent

And fine

With empty open palms

I need leaving lessons

It’s been awhile

But it used to be my specialty

Either I am stuck

Or simply suspended

In the tick-tock of reality

I opened the envelope

But the butterfly didn’t fly

Maybe it was 40 below

Or maybe just time to die

Or maybe I’m to blame

For all frozen things

I need leaving lessons

Just can’t respect

Any single teacher out there

It would take all I have to care

Enough to find my bearings

So I’ll stay here indefinitely

I opened the envelope

But my name wasn’t in it

But I know I wrote it in there

And paid for all the fame

And drug flighty and ungrateful associates

Who only wanted the name

I need leaving lessons

So many do it with ease

But I’m a stubborn so-and-so

Who has a God to please

And in truth I can’t stop

Actually loving these people

People are lovely

Worth focus

Worth the wait

Worth the smile

Worth the time

People are lovely

People are lovely

See them

Know them

Stop for them

Converse with them

People are lovely

People are lovely

Not obstacles

Not projects

Not furniture

Not in the way

People are lovely