We clocked in
(Punched in the older guys said)
And sat in a circle of orange plastic chairs
Hubbed by a thin morose
Befuddlement of a team lead

“An hour, just what is an hour?” he asked to begin the weekly meeting
I wanted to say, “A unit of temporal measurement that comprises -- or is that composes? -- sixty minutes,”
But held back
Knowing the obviousness of the query had to be a set-up

The befuddlement sighed in frustration
An understudy to my English III instructor
(the one who gave me an F- on the Emily Dickinson test)
Then said, “Okay, just what can be done in an hour?”

Then the youngest kid who always kept quiet
But who had enough scars -- had to toss in a lurid touch didn’t I --
To imply that he might have more experience than the oldest said,
“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, then just what is that contraption on the other side of the bay?”

“An assembly line.”

“And what does it do?”

“It makes a 30centaurpower indivertible that runs on Gila monster spit.”

He nodded.

He considered.

“Okay, then, let’s punch out and come back tomorrow. Maybe then we’ll really have something to do.”

(And - oh yeah -- putting on my hat as a frustrated teleplay writer:
Those scars showed that he could handle himself.)

You and I we are both good at what we do
But I'm on a whole different level than you
You're mapping out the mind, I'm blurring all the lines
Lacing every thought with a dose of cyanide 
I contain the colors that you cannot create
All because I've reached an uncharted mental state
And never will I tell you nor will I unveil
How it is and where I go, you'll have to find the trail
Speak away your conscience and bury it with deeds
Then imagine how to nourish what your body needs
Soon you will be restless, just as I once was
Or maybe I'm just saying this like everybody does
I can see you're doubtful, perhaps you want a clue
But time and space will prove again, eternity chose you

Every somnambulist must find alone, a thorny path-
through, encircling hedges of dark night and gloom;
between dreams and reality's abyss, mine has a beacon,
*with my eyes wide shut, I walk toYou, my only flame!

I am from first impressions as shaky feet grip unstable rock. The path winds endlessly in front of you with unsure direction. Moss devours the cool, ancient limestone. A satisfying crunch echos with each determined footstep over dried and fallen leaves. Sometimes not knowing where you are headed leads to the best destinations.
I am from beauty everywhere. For what is not beautiful in it’s own dilapidated way? Certainly the sun, setting over silent waters in a rainbow of peaches and soft yellows, is astonishing. But is not the misshapen tree, aged and withered with time, as pleasing to the eyes? Time has beaten and bruised it, and it still stands proudly, bearing every single perfect imperfection, for the world to see.
I am from adventure. Standing somewhere that no one has stood. Seeing something that no one has seen. Living something that no one, not a single person, has lived before you.
I am from a rocky cliff face. With water slowly deteriorating nature’s well-seen splendor. It seems that too many have made their way into the daunting dark cave, squealing with childish delight as they fly off the unsteady ledges. Yet every time you see it, it manages to feel like you are the first one who has ever set foot in that cool sea-cave.
I am from blend out, not in.
I am from water and time carved boulders. Not one the same as the next. Beaten by the endless undulating waves from an ever-full lake. Each one has a story a few million years long. Each fracture, crack, hole, scratch and blemish is just another page to a book still being written.
I am from what is the difference between ordinary and extraordinary? That little extra.
I am from that little extra.
I am from a warm spring night. Just listen. Can you hear it? Every lonely frog croaking, every peanut guzzling blue jay singing, every leaf dancing in the tender breeze has a story. Every footstep, every tree, every rock, every grain of sand, every soft wind has a story.
I am from I never want to put down this book.

It's never quite right, he said, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.
It's never quite right, he said, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right,
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,
it's not quite right,
it's hardly right at all
he said.

don't I know it? I
answered.

I walked away from the mirror.
it was morning, it was afternoon, it was
night

nothing changed
it was locked in place.
something flashed, something broke, something
remained.

I walked down the stairway and
into it.

Whirlwind, claws out, air piercing precision
Listen to the howl, a fast recognition

Unleashed, breaking point, adrenaline taking to affect
Not hard to direct yet reason in mind isn't easy to collect

Juggernaut effect neglecting obstacles and environment
a trail of awaiting riders to Hades left after onslaught engagement

Circumvention dies away once the fury comes and so do they
Red sight, Blind fight, no feeling til' the end of prey

awoken after feral blaze
setting eyes upon with astounding gaze

a look into the beast inside
suppressed for worth of glory's height

An inner peace attained, neglecting the vice
The obscurity in plain and open sight

Damage done, no turning back
The wolverine's sun setting and fading with his tracks

promises shatter like
broken glass on a hard floor.
i can't breathe.
my stomach is churning.
i'm sweating -- you should be.
torn down is all that we've built,
and i'm feeling it.
i'm feeling myself wilt.

You're twiddling your thumbs,
Tugging on your shirt.
I see you break
Into a cold sweat.
Watch your knees shake,
I know you're nervous.
And you radiate unsure
But you just breathe,
Until the twitching stops.
Calm down a little,
Say what you planned.
Four most dangerous words
In the English language,
We need to talk.
**My turn to worry.