Thursday, July 19, 2012

Dogen sitting at the bar

like a panicked emergency vehicle,
cuts through the traffic,
swimming through confused cars,
my anxiety cannot be traded,
for curiosity or anticipation, 
as it is borne of a visceral perception,
the immediacy of contingency,
and an empirical heart,
this anxiety is like a friend,
whom I've never known,
a stranger with whom I've shared my life,




watching,
robotic flashing reds, 
yellows,
greens, 
reflected in the grease,
of fatigued concrete,
I fall into a dream,
in which I am in a dark room,
reaching for a light switch,
when I find it,
I flick it,
but the room remains dark,
I can hear rain hitting the window,
it's a house I know,
I can hear distant voices,
like commentators at a baseball game,

I wake up.



















5 comments:

hulia said...

That's the shit HP. Wow. Beauty.

hulia said...

That's the shit HP. Wow. Beauty.

Old Ollie said...

real art - from you and the hip

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Excellent words.

Anna :o]

Anonymous said...

Your ability to speak through poetry is other-worldly, sir.