entreaties
i do not sleep much anymore
unremittingly it is naps and snacks
pen in hand, inscribing words
at 5 am
i have prayed for relief
there is no answer conversing with God
if thought exceeds the velocity of light
would he hear
a single muted plea
it seems life
is a continually moving flash
an inside-outside ache
this leaves no thought
on how to spend
the days
its Easter holidays
and the only man
with the solution died
carrying his fated cross
i surmise
i will have to continue
carrying my own
somewhere
between toast and coffee
the aftertaste lingers, like prayers
waiting for God
on the edge
if you could hear me
screaming not being heard
invisible in this world i did not shape
an ageing man
eyes looking for shadows
of where I have been- where I am now -
if you could see the shrunken soul
curled up in silent solitude
incapable
i must close the windows- pull the drapes
lock doors; the time of the interloper’s draws near -
two legged crows are what they are
Crows would delight in my delicatness
in still places
it was on friday
i said i would be there
help, raid the storeroom
supplies.
“i was caught creeping
in the shadows.”
the cobwebs
of my mind– burn
the thud of discipline –
strikes
i flew elsewhere
down indistinct fissures
away from consuming
claws;
“in to the longed-for
abyss–of– nonexistence.”
i was neither here
nor there
although my friends knew
where i was;
i did not see, feel hear
rain beating against windows –
or the howling
wind
infinite in
my childhood-mind
a phrase kept hammered me.
“hey things
are, as they are; it’s time.”
time to
make, your final run –
no more
walls
after, there were
no more
Walls.
