happyfish

Don't ask me what's wrong -
I want to write a poem,
But I don't know the words
So maybe I'll just hum along instead.

The problem with flying is gravity.
The problem with hope is I haven't any -
Not for what I long for most.
Laughter conversations,
fingertip dances
and the way summer
changes your scent on lazy afternoons.

Don't look at me-
you can't - won't -
I'm not the right person, I know.
I see the way she catches your glances,
And holds your smiles with the ease of long practice.
And I -
I, the imposter,
the watcher, tom-fool at the gate
with his heart in his hands.
I was a dancer once. No more.
My feet trip over familiar words
how's it going? and
that's too bad...

Reaching forward but drawing back.
Ask - I'd give you everything.

If I could...

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?' and 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair -
(They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin -
(They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!')
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse

...

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen!
Would it have been worth while
If one, setting a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant at all.'

..

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.

In other news, life's been busy. Working pretty much constantly, which I suppose is nice because I spent two months not working this summer. It'd be nice, though to get a day off sometime before October. I like work, though. It keeps me busy and I find that while I'm there I can't worry about other things; I'm too busy focusing on work and being a good little peon cashier person.
I still sort of feel like shaving my head.

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Entries tagged with poem

The Problem with Flying

The older I get, the more I understand this poem

Listening for the Coming Storm

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June 2010

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