10.31.2012

Hospital III


this room is so familiar
I feel it as its vagueness dries air circulating constantly
the dry air entering
this dry air exiting these lonely lungs
I need a real cigarette, I say to myself, then it will be O.K.
to be in bed all day,
to be in static wheelchairs in a constant state of discomfort.

I think it’s time for my next dose:
one more hour
just one more
until six more becomes my reality
I need it now
I need to escape these walls
just mentally
just through the now hazy window of my mind and the window––
always telling of a world still circulating its bowels out there
where there is sunlight and dying trees
where there are bodies busily bustling through crowded streets and
      dimlylit walkways
leading to the next––
the constant next––
always on the horizon, while my mind is concerned with only but two
      choices:
to dream or wake.

this waking dream, nightmare, of knowing more is out there that I do
      not want,
but do I want this? the solitude? the nights amid so many pillows? the
      nurses checking in? the friends too bored to leave? and me in
      between casts unable to do much but breathe?

I believe in reality, out there, somewhere, maybe over the rainbow,
but not in here
surely, there is more to the world than the constant, vapor cigarette
      and endless Cokes!
surely, out there, is a solid grip
a fundamental foundation,
a stolid rock, unwavering,
where all the people must end up,
though sometimes they fall so far back
into their white, hospital beds.

10.30.2012

Hospital II


I hear lifeflights over nurse calls outside my window,
my lightbearing window,
where the light rises and falls each day as if by habit
as if it’s been doing so for thousands of aeons
I watch it again and again
as shoes pitterpatter past my closed door
I do not wish to see them in their stretchers, oxygen tubes, casts,
      wheelchairs,
always looking in to see me covered in books and T.V. and comfort
      pillows
my casts not allowing me to move
my injuries so deep it will take time,
much more time,
I do not wish it to hurry
I do not wish to leave,
to be back on the walking streets with those gazing animals always
      wanting more from me,
for in here I can sleep
I can close my eyes and just feel the earth spin so calmly up here
      in this hospital bedroom
while out there I know it spins so violently
out there where every step matters and every hand position is
      telling of some inner thought
while in here I can lie on my back
and smoke vapor and dream 

10.25.2012

Hospital I


Here we are:
Waiting on to die.

––Hospital walls––
––All four sides––

Arms, legs, bandages,
Heads encased,
Blood running, spilling,
Antibiotic dripping
Filling
These empty vessels
Full of new hope,
Life,
Light,
Though darkness comes with night:
Darkness comes with night.

These shadows
On these walls
Waiting on us
To die,

Or get out––

Which way
will it end?
Which way
do it end?,
My dear, bandaged compatriots,
oxygen-inhaling brothers,
sisters puffing pillows,
children under needles,
parents and their fiddling fears––

These masked nurses,
surgeons,
peoples not wanting to touch
our sickened bodies
with bare hands
nor bare breath.

We all
Waiting on us
To die.

10.24.2012

The Simple Universe


I’ll bet I was present
at every beat of this heart
I’ll bet I can recall
every moment from the start 

the beginning was simple:
no love, laughter, life––
a void, a darkness
no matter, no drive

in training to be perfect,
the simple universe found
limits were worthless––
and it ignored any bounds

as time finally realized itself
mirrors formed, complexities grew
and this dark universe––
still simple and new.

10.09.2012

The Arctic


There’s a cold, lonely place
with Winter its only phase

one silent whisper
carries on forever

tranquil and quiet
noises undefined

softly and slowly
The Arctic reproachfully

D I S I N T E G R A T E S

without notice
without emotion
without care
without trace

10.05.2012

Something to Write

A subject--
    But what?
Something to write.
    It's coming like a fog,
       A fast wind,
       A circular air.

                           I live on
                           through words,
                           dying words,
                           breathless words

That mean nothing--
     Unless you make them--

                 Hold them in your mind
                 Let them have air
                 Give them life, light

          Growing
             with every inhale.