Archive for October, 2013
All Is Fine, for a Moment Long Ago
Today, my charges leapt
out, more than one
flash, confidence, an
unforced smile, brief
contentment, old
shoes on friendly
grit, grinning, drained
of defects.
I Want a Robot (5)
to tell the truth for me,
to bear my emotional state
only for the other robots, so I
can act as if I can handle life
with none of the pressure of
radical anxieties shoving knives
at the insides of my skin, to
smooth over my past, make me
forget, erase my regret, show me
that today I might be human enough.
.
I Want a Robot (4)
to cover the streets I run
with hot caramel, helping stop
the best people and he, the robot,
could look like me, but
everything about him would
be loving, gracious serenity.
I’d be fooling the best
people while I read the
best books about what it’s like
to live, too afraid to do it.
.
The Good Days Attack Me Also
Rarely, there is a day
with razor clarity, all the
edges, sharp, no fuzziness on the
round spiders, when the sun
creates millions more colors
than god originated, where
streets are empty but not
unfriendly, warm like blankets,
when architecture pops at me,
telling me man could not make
those buildings without god,
and while two days ago, the
sun’s fall angle burnt depression
on to my fingernails, today,
the angle is close to
perfect, where there is no
high noon, and I look
out from within my catacombs,
high above the gray, pock-marked
street, and all of me but some frail
string of spirit wants to
jump, knowing it is only with that
clarity in how it will end quickly.
.
I Want a Robot (3)
to sit amongst the tans,
the creamy, sandy blurs
that don’t muffle, but seem
to punctuate the sounds of
gossip, soap-operatic gifs,
and cackles that reopen all my
wounds, to sit there,
punching the numeric
keys and alpha, as needed,
to be a steel case, undisturbed
by the chaos of death wearing
down the cubicled, doing my
job, so that I might wander
in a normally-hopeless search
for my life, for my reason.
.
I Want a Robot (2)
to permit me a walk
on the fantastic stairs
by the architectural
wonder, feeling the winds
from the South, full of
future lives, to only
reflect on sharing experience,
hoping it helps or comforts
or perhaps alleviates wounds
of loneliness.
I Want a Robot (1)
to go out to the bridge,
break down, cry terrifically,
become breathless, unable
to speak of the terrors, but
demonstrate them with the full
jacket of emotions, take all of
my despair so I may sit
here professionally, with no
theatrics, no tears, no feelings,
and take the attacks of my boss
and the volatile piles of shame
from the bad dog, the boss’s boss.
.
(My thanks to Erik, who has kindled a beautiful soul and shares some of it here, where the linked post and others spark the good kind of reflection in me as well as good discussions with Erik, for inspiring this series, which could go on forever, if I do.)
.
Today, Wanting to Go
God, please help me
survive the dungeon.
I know this might
go unanswered,
and I’m afraid
I might survive.
.
stillfugue 