there is something about a quiet moment in a frazzled life
that hits the right spot
it's almost as good as taking a swim in the ocean
on a hot summer day
it's just enough to remind me that there is space
to breathe deeply

i wrote to someone that my ex was making me
into a beautiful mess
she wrote back, "can you keep the 'beautiful' and dump the mess?"

ah, if it were that easy i would scarcely know what to do
with myself
the days are getting longer, the wind is getting milder
the changing of seasons is helping me crawl out of my shell
i've been hibernating too long and my body is ready to move again.

how do i know?
the muscles in my legs contract and relax...readying to spring into action
anticipating a run or a kick...waiting
how do i know?
i stretch and i stretch and i've yet to feel satiated by the action
perhaps a long sequence of yoga moves may help
my body screams for yoga...or karate...or swimming
my body screams to move fast/er
my body screams as i sit on this chair and write these passages

i woke up this morning wanting to be someone else
i woke up this morning wanting to be someone
i woke up this morning wanting to be
i woke up this morning wanting to
i woke up this morning wanting
i woke up this morning
i woke up this
i woke up
i woke
i

can you tell when i am lying?
is it the hesitation in my voice?
the lilt of my speech?
the avoidance technique?
can you tell me when i am lying?
i've built up the wall so high
that i've forgotten what i look like
past the rocky exterior

messy poetry is all that seems to come out lately
the words are random bits...issuing forth without an editorial eye
really i am just blank and empty
nothing in there
can you hear the echoes?
hello....(hello)....(hello)...(hello)
see what i mean?
i don't make this up
i seem to be running around
skirting the issue
and pinning me down
is like pinning mercury
isn't mercury toxic?
gasp...
pinning me down
is like holding water
in hand
mostly it's a trickling mess

i want to write...* hopping on one foot and then the other *
i want to write about stuff
about important stuff
about relevant stuff
but how do i pin down the experiences
when there are so many aspects to it
gathering sand one grain at a time
and feeling the impossibility of it riding up my spine.

i want to play
but i've forgotten how to
play...play...play...play
nope, nothing yet
if i say it enough
do you think it will come?
the reminder
the know-how
if i repeat the word
will it manifest in my life
if so, what will it look like?
and who will i play with?

hmmm how did i get here?
right, i was writing about writing stuff
bye...


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