dark waters

transcribing poems #1

end of january

it feels important to keep writing,
to attempt to sketch the slippery eel

I am slowly reeling in from the dark waters.

progress : my awkward, shuffling gait
has grown supple, 
no longer a parody
of the sadly accurate
living dead. 

i can stand the gaze and attention of others again, 
for a little time, 
though their slightest brush
still collides into me like a tidal wave.

when i first lay naked in the arms of love,
the truth spoke plainly :
i still could not feel.
no lifeline of yes and nos,
no “i want”
to open the dance.

so i have been learning my own trade anew,
from the receiving end.

i am discovering
if i cannot feel,
nothing really matters.
not me, not others,
the earth is a pale and lifeless backdrop,
i am brittle, uncertain, unconcerned
and Beauty does not speak to my heart.

Beauty does not speak to my heart.

With Her face turned away,
I am
in exile,
a random particle floating in a vacuum,
coated in a flavorlessness that reeks of slow poison.

so still my hands drop things
my legs refuse to walk
driving is a necessary agony of concentration
and i want to scream at the barrage of humorless hurdles
Give Me A Fucking Break Already

7 days of numbness
2 days pondering
5 days car hunting
4 days driving

eyes right south,
where the wild is.

photo by Jeff Packard