THE WORLD IS MY WIDOW

September 16, 2008 by

It was an afterthought that brought me here


Towards the end of  another idle afternoon


That spits me out spent.  I made it


As far as the sofa  –  anchorage  of  undertow


And arid equivocation.  –  Awaking from a dream


Into another dream;  glimpsing the passing notion


That being awake, too, might have its pleasures, its rewards.


And relatively alert again, I reanesthetize myself.

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ACCOMPLISHMENT

September 11, 2008 by

It would be a relief if I could resign myself

To unproductivity and simply exist

Unburdened by this tiresome need to produce

That has been the cause of so much unpleasantness.

It’s not as if I do anything with my time

And as for most of the people who do accomplish

Anything: one rather wishes they hadn’t bothered either.

Accomplishment, I suspect, is overrated.

CREATION

September 11, 2008 by

I have been sitting here

Gritting my teeth in the hot light of day

For what seems a long time

But probably isn’t.

I cannot do what I want to do

And I cannot do anything else.

A lamentable waste, but the absence of this

Emptiness would create an immense yawning void in my life.

DAYS

September 11, 2008 by

Mornings are spent preparing for activity.

Nights are spent recovering from inactivity.

Why torment myself over succumbing

To an inertia so inevitable that I could set my clock

By the onslaught of it? Why not just accept it?

To do otherwise is only an exercise

In frustration: a phrase that could easily apply

To my entire life.

A PRELUDE OF SORTS

September 11, 2008 by

For years I have tarried, secure

In the notion that all this luxuriating

In vicarious decay served some sort of purpose. Until

It became apparent that this extended arid preamble

Had turned terminal, squashing any prospect

Of fecundity. Fading without ever having flourished;

A dream unwinding, grinding

To a standstill.

ANOTHER DAY

September 4, 2008 by

Take some initiative… 

Do something with your life:

I get up from the sofa,

Walk across to the table

And write these words

Down on a piece of paper.

Then I return to the sofa and

Fall asleep.

HOW LITTLE, HOW FAR

September 4, 2008 by

I have never done less:

I keep saying this

And yet I keep outdoing myself.

One would assume

That one would have to do something

To get from morning to night

But I have proven that this

Is not necessarily the case.

STEPPING OUT

September 3, 2008 by

Another day lies squandered behind me.

The effluvia of recent useless vacillation

Pollutes my abode and suffocates my higher faculties.

I seek relief from the nausea of my own society

In the outside world.

To reward myself with distraction:

Not for work well done, or done at all

But as relief from tormenting myself over not doing the work…

LXX

September 2, 2008 by

It was not meant for me to fail.

It doesn’t feel right.  But it is

What I have chosen to undo

With my life, what I have unmade

Of  myself.  It is disturbing that I am prepared

To settle for so little: only promise.  But perhaps

There never really was a time of  promise;  –

I’ve always felt past my prime.