"glibberish" poems
i can't catch my image in the mirror
try to haunt it with my eyes
but the glibberish mass
escapes narrowly
everytime
i searched for a scale in this room
but the drawers are all empty
no number to cry over
but also no pride
just uncertainty
i want to brush my itching teeth
there is no brush, nor paste
reaching for a packet of gum
i chew inexorably
latching onto it
on christmas eve
i wished for nothing more
than
a scale, a toothbrush
and some pride
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
Worried? Are you happy?
Anticipation for my number to be called.
Waiting for the I, 65, that stays in the basket.
For the hearse to pass in a weirdly somber parade;
For my children to be home;
Waiting for the lake to freeze;
For the lake to thaw;
Waiting for release;
For the question and the answer.
A thought just popped into my head.
From where?
What's my brain telling me.
I've never told it anything.
It has a mind of its own.
These quotidian thoughts, like memories, ideas, pictures and songs.
Rare thoughts and self chastisement.
Common anxiety with no controlling redundant backup.
Where does the ocean begin? At the lapping of the water,
Or an inch beneath the surface sand?
Does the forest start with the leaf twirling in the wind,
Or with the roots under the asphalt?
Be happy... don't worry.
Glib!
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 12:49 PM UTC