the sun flitters through my blinds
dancing over my eyes, my brain that decides
that I did not get my money's worth if they won't keep out
the goddamned sunlight on a saturday morning without work.
a glance at the clock tells me i could sleep another hour or two
no one would yet notice me missing.
yet strangely, i can't sleep.
damned sunlight.
the thought of getting out of bed, hearing people talk at me
seeing a day in progression without me...
nah, I'll stay a while and see what's new with Diane di Prima.
Of course there's nothing.
Strangely enough, poetry doesn't change from one time to the next
that you read it.
It is still the war for the human imagination, and still no one can or will fight it for me.
I sigh for the umpteenth time...even the beat can get boring.
I consider what Ashley would think of this,
I can hear her screams of anger at my considered blasphemy. oh well.
the shirt we got from Wildwood is still sitting in my laundry basket because I forgot to wear it.
one of the mad ones indeed.
I make a mockery of my own facination with the life force of Carlo Marx.
mad to live, mad to breathe, mad and desirous of everything all at once -
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness"
well, that may have been true for Ginsberg, but they've got pills for that anymore.
a pill to be happy, a pill to be sad
a pill to cure hunger, a pill that keeps you from mad.
dr. seuss trips over the swollon prescription books of doctors
who decide that loading you up with medication can fix anything
and I laugh at my kitchen cabinet overloaded with brownish orange bottles with
white caps and multi-colored, multi-sized pills I never bothered to take because after the first week,
I was still sick
and out forty five bucks.
the book hits the tissue-cluttered floor because the trashcan has a spinny lid tissues don't knock open
a hand tries to smooth my hair that has dried in frizzy curls, I don't know which because I haven't yet
drawn the red "ring" onto a finger on the right hand like I did in kindergarten to remember.
those cereal bars are for breakfast when you don't have time - not snacking!
but they were better as chex than cinnamon toast crunch and no one else cares...
...especially when it's not saturday morning after all, but wednesday afternoon
and shit.
i'm late for work again.