Walls

We live in a world

of layers.

Like a recluse,

we hide inside our box,

within the walls

of our island

in the sea.

Sometimes the defenses fail,

the dangerous get in

and our system collapses.

We say,

“I’m okay, the sea is holding.”

Then the sea falls, and we say,

“It’s okay, the island is strong,”

then it falls too.

So goes, soon, the walls

and then it is only us…

…and our box.

The whole of human existence is thus:

Our walls, our collectives….

Sometimes the enemy is physically threatening,

sometimes that threat is ephemeral.

Sometimes it is cancer,

other-times it is love.

We build and isolate,

and collapse from without.

You can measure the arc of humanity

in the failings of our barricades,

and our progress can be measured

by the same tools.

How

are

your

walls?

Day two

They say that today

is the first day

of the rest of your life.

Ok.

So yesterday must have been

the last day

of something,

right?

Am I perpetually starting over,

or closing doors,

day

after day?

Stupid aphorisms.

The Return

Briefly
in
the
stratosphere.
Grounded
now,
mortal,
again.
Going
back
to
self.

I have been warned

I should not
be allowed
to talk
to strangers.
I have been drinking,
and they are all
now
my friends.
They are not
all
my friends.

Not so alone

The miracle of drink:
The intolerable
become quaint,
the noise
becomes symphony,
the crowd becomes
invisible
and I become aware
that the people
are sharing this moment
with me.

Lost in the crowd

I didn’t wear
my concert shirt.
How will I know
who I am?

Goers

I went to the concert
to hear the artist
and they were playing it
in the bar,
while I drank,
before the show.
I felt like I was choking
on something I loved.
I went outside
and took a deep breath
but they were out there too…
them
smoking the green,
unaware
of how out-of-touch they were
with what they had come to experience.
I felt square.
I wanted music
I got people instead.

Banal

They are tiresome.
They are here
(ostensibly)
for the same reason
I am here.
They are here,
however,
in a different tone
and in a manner harsh
and foreign
to my senses.
It is unfair to hate them
as their motives are sound,
but I do it
anyway.
That is my way…
and it works for me,
even as it destroys me.

New things

Confusion…
fear….
What’s the difference?

Drove home in the rain

Sometimes you get down

it’s hard not to take it personally,

but the rain isn’t falling

just on you.

In a way, it would be easier

to think of the rain as your executioner:

there for you alone.

That’s a crazy kind of arrogance

but you can wrap it around yourself

like a warm blanket.

But when the things that bring you down

don’t tear everybody else down too

it just feels useless,

to be feeling anything at all.