I SEE MY PRE-DOOM ROOM

July 24, 2017

 

 

I sweat my bed.

I do all  but dread  there,

One hundred undraped  dreamscapes.

I’d replay and replay

Heaven’s elevator tunes on tape.

Is it true  I did

Fluid-loss & exhaustion,

All that turning and tossing?

I sweat my bed.

First thing is shower head to head,

It takes cold water to weigh

This old man awake to stay down,

Away from high ground.

.

I’d  walked  hard

To find my feet,

To find a way unled

In this far town.

Winds of that farthest town

Of hers are zephyrean dread.

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SUM RHYME

December 5, 2016

 

 

 

Summing up some/things you can’t count on

Is  dumb.

When the wind whisks debris

Away. To kingdom come

And comes back   to tease.

Where my moon rebuffs  enough

Sunlight  to shake me awake

Until daylight   spoils the spell.

When passion is a ebbed sea,

Then ennui may dwell,

Grave missteps must only step up &

Soon it’s counted. Moonlit debris.

 

S A D D I S H

August 8, 2016

 

“It’s a desperately vexatious thing, that after all one’s reflections and quiet determinations, we should be ruled by moods that one can’t calculate on beforehand.” ―

                                                           George Eliot, Adam Bede  

.

She’s  pulling  up  stakes.

For fulfilling dreams wait for her there.

Somewhere else.  Somewhere farther

From this dry dream here.

I love her so I can let it go.

From two hundred to twelve hundred

Miles to walk, away.

.

1

It  stands  to  reason  that

I understand  It’s a good plan  to move,

It gets me in the throat.

.

2

I  could  call  it  logical.

get it./ We’ve yet to use unwise  love.

“I’ve got a good hooded coat.”

.

3

I  guess  it  makes  some  sense.

It gets me to make  no move.

It got me in my throat.

.

.

It’s all  a saddish  & maddening wishing well.

I’m still a man

Who can sit so still

 

 

 

IDYLL THREAT

June 30, 2016

 

 

 

There’s this effing coughing guy.

Coughing his damn fool sick mucoused  head.

Here he’s right  behind me.

I’d bet half the health insurance check I’ll need

He’ll reject  deflecting all that sick  and

He has No manners to lift up that handy hefty hand.

He keeps coughing, this jerk,

&  me with three hours  of work

&  then I’m free,  or start to be.

When I reach my  muy  private beach…

Known for its   internal tune up  sun

Its eternal straightline horizon

.

Three hours and It’s a Go

Leave this stress that  god I know

This thing with coughing threatens  “No”

UNBINDING

April 17, 2016

I could, by unbinding, ease up  by inches

I just could  cease finding my itches

Intolerable, and irremediable

It could  be that by trying

To untangle, to untie lines  and

That not only the knotted, like burls in an oak,

But all that nestles, like the nettles across my chest ache

I could, unbinding, unbuckle, unshackle some,

Unbridle  abit.

I  could  go.

.

.

.

.                (from 2012)

“MOCK CRASH UNFOLDS”

April 12, 2016

“Mock  Crash  Unfolds”

Made an edit

For a column lead-in

And something to scan

While we gentlemen wait

For counsel

At the bank

Older gentlemen of a certain age

Encouragedly unemployed now

The headlines heralded some rescue drill

Trained Emergency people

Acted out on some sunnier afternoon

P O I S E

March 14, 2016

 

I’m immersed in the miracle
of my sense
Poised on the pinnacle
of a fence

Razor-sharp and fast
I gotta outlast
a lotta likelihood.
& rays of cutting ice;
a slanting precipice
was wanting the place
I stood

.

.drank_my_dreams_by_chriseastmids-d9t9nnj

.

.

(written when I was a kid)

.

.

.                (imagery by

drank my dreamsby chriseastmids

i)

When every windy day

We’re over there to the cemetery

When wind chimes sing  from a tree

This  is  Melissa

.

ii)

When friends fade

(Yet, the few you let love you).

When one’s forced to infer

Another gone/next connection

Immense  with interference

Then,  It’s  fierce

When friends fade

.

iii)

You sure yr future dreams come mourning don’t manifest doubtful?

What you want can’t cum out full

As sure as your shy shouts ain’t heard

You’re frightened you mighten  give up on promise.

But never your word.

 

AT TOMORROW’S WINDOWS

February 29, 2016

20151029_135710By Thursday

I should, surely

Feel  fully  aware.

.

They’ll mull some, say,

Seeing his stare.

There, unascertainable  hazes

Of tomorrow’s torrents of rain

The throbs & throes

At  windows

There, torments

There, painfully free

 

 

 

 

“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
~C.G. Jung~

 

 

 

NIGHT CURRENTS

February 12, 2016

I’m turning & tossing

For yr talk/ yr noise/

Take my private call

Of the wild/

A must call most primal/

& y’mustn’t fail to stay ’till

My tail falls off.

.

.

teachers to small children the world over,

pastors to parish,

they all will tell the pretty truth

(aside the pretty lies, “pretty lies”)

that crystalline snowflakes

are unique. unique.

and maybe later

in both

secular schoolrooms

and sunday school classes

( the world over)

small children might make snowflakes for themselves;

they’ll fold lacy paper exactly in half,

with a good crease,

and taking their round-ended scissors,

they’ll cut their very own unique cuts

so that when everyone unfolds their lacy paper

and lifts it above their heads

everyone can laugh  at their uniquenesses

.

but one thing that ministers & mentors,

rabbis & nuns will not add

is that those one-of-a-kind snowflakes

are  all

alone

in their descent

on icy black currents

all their night fall

.

.

.

.

.                                 (from a coupla years back)