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Still Crazy Aug 2014
no mean feat to reestablish,
palpitating those few seconds
when arms-in-motion wave frantic,
in desperation,
in fall-prevention mode,
comical and tragical,
a salty suite,
and the semi-familiar
taste of fall/failing
the freshest fear,
jalapeƱo hot on the tongue

some months ago,
the thinnest tightrope,
not an obstacle feared,
what I lacked for,
I could not say or now recall

the kindness of calm prevailed
now tension lines drawn,
under the feet,
around the neck,
high voltage wires that
no artist-survivor-breadwinner
can walk without trepidation
though you don't see my arms flailing,
there are faint marks on my soles,
parallelograms on my throat,
where fear has tested
the prowess of its equipment

my life retrospected,
have miracles
made and gained,
given and taken

nine lives used up so many times,
thought my allotment was
nine X nine to the power of nine,
stupid-stopped looking over my shoulder

the poems came so easy,
every phrase overheard was a
story explicated, and the insights slid
from throat to paper so fast
I did not count myself blessed,
just merely fortunate

well fortunes veer,
turn left bad right,
no direction home,
and what was easy,
now impossible

how the story final beds,
will keep you posted,
right now all I can predict
with 100% surety,
the fall is surely coming
for the summer-man

the sun cannot burn off
the fog that paralyzes his
ship to shore,
invisible the safety of port,
the horn sound more of a croak,
his voice, ashamed of failing,
has this man both
landlocked
and lost at sea
this poem was once centered
too

— The End —