I am doing my best,
I say over and over.
There is still a voice in my head asking,
“Why doesn’t he understand me?”
so I open the notebook and start writing:
This is a little draining.
Not you, of course, dear—
just the enormity.
He slowly drifts away —
is that me?
What if I fall asleep?
Breaking delicate wings… check.
I am flapping vigorously
just to stay afloat.
Thirty years wasn’t literal, I see.
Some karmas flash by
like a weekend does
when you’re avoiding Monday.
As the rain is falling down
there are tears of sorrow.
I do understand.
It is a different dimension of thinking.
My mind is operating
at a treacherous clip.
If
I
could—
then we would,
give it a flip.
No hurry, I’m sure.
Yet the blend and the blur
of the miraculous stirrer
has me smurfing it up at a clip.
Who is it that knows Dream Theater,
and is such a teaser?
I must say—
I’m thinking quite nice.
This life review,
combined with this view…
Puzzle pieces every toss.
The floor is covered.
It feels soft.
Eyes closed, a trance—
dancing to clocks.
There’s no picture on the box.
This is like life in the first, by degree.
Whatever you do, you can try it and see.
If you tangle and jangle
and test every angle—
it’s easier,
see?
By degree.
The second and third
had us making with words.
The fourth had me live as a tree.
The fifth way of doing
is not to be you-Ing—
rather,
just see what you see.
