February 22, 2014

what do I have to give...

John the Ferryman, Exmouth

                                                                               photo by Robert George Murduck ©



 
which parts of me died today (for David Foster Wallace)

every day 
cynicism and ironic aloof
protect me 
no feeling pain
especially when I eat the poisons
detachment/ bubble wrapped
two day shipped
48 hours is my longest cycle
I can stand to be caught
to be counted on for
anything

post-modern
grind clocks
pay by pieces
things you’re willing
to lose or bargain away
in order for there to be more
doors that get you whatever
that get you through any night
where you might be wondering
should I scry or cry myself into irrelevant laughter
should I ritual ornate my impervious to a further past here
quieting myself enough to hear my heart beat

I always want
to smell how time stops
all those pieces
I keep giving to the ferryman
I frame most memories
into poems

each one is another part
of the universe by now
I taste the ghosted echoes
rooting creative abscesses

howl
claw
piss
and moan

I am
desperate sometimes
trying hard
never to be
too much
part of anything

 EJR ©


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