I do not want to confine myself to a cubicle
I do not want to type my way through a day
I do not want to bite my nails, fearing I ‘d fail
I do not want to smoke my anxiety, on a Thursday
I do not want to miss sunrise, in traffic
I do not want to train a fake smile
I do not want to mingle, even when I’m single
I do not want to leave quarantine, even if you call it a syndrome
I do not want to jump into busy, I do not miss it
I do not want to forget how to value
I do not want to rush, I like the pause
I do not want to live by time, I want to control time
I do not want to consume a designated lunch, I want to make lunch matter
I do not want lockdown to end

it's weird, now
i can sleep when i'm tired

As the world returns
     to 'go' again
and silent spaces
resume their noise

Questions query whether
     wise or foolish
     to so proceed
     to open house?
    
Foresight
     drips along,
     seamless cloudy
     be the forecast,
So quite unable
     to perceive
     beyond the morrow.

Only hindsight holds the insight
And
     always
     always
comes too late.

art is around me
always.
like the wind in my hair or the grass on my feet.
perpetual.
art doesn’t come and go
even as humanity
wavers.
in fact, when humanity is unsure,
art flourishes.

i have created my fair share of art.
after all,
i am an artist
...
at least, that is what i call myself
and that means many things.

i like to draw, and drawings cover my walls from
top to bottom.
therefore i am an artist.

i like to write, and words flow through me
like water through a stream.
therefore i am an artist.

i like to sing, and lyrics whisper out of my mouth
when no one is listening.
therefore i am an artist.

i like to take pictures, and images
of flowers and rivers and streams stream through my mind.
therefore i am an artist.

i have created my fair share of art.
after all, we are in quarantine.
meaning we are at home.
meaning we have “nothing” to do.
(wrong)

i like to draw
i like to write
i like to sing
i like to take pictures
therefore i am an artist
and i have work to do

Each hour
passes as in a day.
First,
second,
third
it began.
Now,
Saturday,
soon Friday again.
If only the dreaded days
are kinder,
less hostile
to the mind.
If only
memories fill pages - -
A trip, a nightout,
a conversation
while traversing
unknown streets at night.
But days have become
prayers uttered
with every breath,
with nights far longer
and more threatening
in one's isolation.


I think about the city lights
as souls.
Do not die out, do not die out,
I cry into the night.
My breath I lift up
as incense to the Sky.
I pray for flickers
that are not consumed.
I ask for less stars
in the heavenlies
and more hopeful
ones in the Metro.
I poke at Venus now.
I tell her:
Dispense your warmth.
Let it glow within us.
She is beauty
but she mocks.


050220

I gaze upon my windowpane
as the sun utters its goodbyes.
Mixed hues of blue, red, and orange,
grace the stillness of the summer sky.
I lived within these walls,
48 days and counting.
The light beckons, the heat calls
me out from my endless hiding.
The longing for the wind
and a greeting from my neighbor,
feels like fire in the harshest of winters.
But for now all I have is my window,
my paper and a pen--
giving me faith for a brighter tomorrow,
for this too, shall end.

in quarantine
but my body has
always felt like
a prison

Getting goose bumps at the brush of new
leaves gushing together on a warm wind.
The soft crunch of grass underfoot
Like the pad of foot on snow.
A mustard brown duck waddles towards me, his comrade in tow,
over daisies snow dropped on grass.

Quiet like the shadows in the dark.
Undergoing it’s meeting at the park.
Around the way it sees its prey.
Ranting to the sky, “Has it lost its way!”
Another life is taken, but it doesn’t seem to care.
Not until the smoke disperses will it see its wear.
Time is ticking on a broken clock.
Inside the crowds flock.
New to the outside as its prey stalks.
Even on a good day not everyone walks.

I broke all the rules today
got out of my car -- no mask --
and ran
to hug my friends.

Quaran-time is one day and night,
there is no structure or routine,
just going, going, gone...
But the sun on my face
and my friends beside me
snapped me back
to now

Then the goosebumps on my arms
and the light behind the clouds
reminded me --
I was breaking the rules.

But I don't care.