it feels frivolous to want

is anyone else weary?

like…in their bones?

heart and soul never mending 

while the world forgets 

the time we lost

while physical emotional afflictions

linger lasting line a veil

it feels frivolous to want

snippets

I

scars on hard surfaces 

what amount of force was required 

to make such a thing?

II

where are the years

the hours, but left

in buildings at desks

III

wait! let’s back this shit up

file under “things I say 

about files and life”

IV

meh

plethora

 prickly pear and orange

along the lanes, in public spaces

does anything come of it? 

understanding all the ways I was f-d up as a kid

I play 

the long game 

planning, plotting

steps of one-two checks

degrees, work, life

connecting dots

information, people 

pulling the spatial into 

a linear list of to-dos

in a 90-ten of mind 

over body mantra 

of “get ‘er done…”

never existing in the now

essential balm - qing liang you

I went from MacGyvering things

with toothpicks and tape 90 percent

of the time in my twenties

to Murphying 1,000 percent 

of the time in my fifties;

I never mind soft medicinal scents 

when abrasions heal fast

waiting on deliveries before I can nap

in the square below my window 

steps away from my front door 

there were people

at two am then again at five

the number growing -

many still there at nine and ten

a round of bells at some point

announced…what? why?

I know this from Birdie’s

waking, announcing 

well past noon

outside I hear the lulling 

churning of work done slowly 

while I wait for deliveries 

before I can nap