The Room in the House

He asked me to write a poem with my eyes closed
No focus on function or style
Just searching for the keys with my eyes closed
Searching for some sort of salvation that will not come

There’s a room in a house
Where the light’s always on
You can see it through
The crack at the bottom of the door
And an old wind-up victrola that keeps playing
Even though there’s no one to wind it
And it plays the bossa nova
But no one’s dancing

He told me to write a story with my eyes closed
That way I’d see it all take shape in my head
How the imagination can work its way
Even under black and red

But now I’m seeing blue
And I’m wondering if you
Would care if I connected colors
To moods
Orange for glad
Pink for mad
Brown for dirty
Green for sickness
and health

Do you see the trees?
They blossom in the winter
They blossom all year long

Out there it’s beautiful
With the flowered trees
And ripe, poisonous cherries

But in the room in the house
Where the music plays
During daytime the overhead light
Beats down on me
As if it were the only thing
Living
And there’s no switch here
So I crawl
Into the room with no windows
And see the story ---
once in black and red ---
Now just black

Limerique

These things are always happening
These things never go away
They wring at your neck
When you least expect
Just to see how much you can take

There’s a monster in my closet
There’s a monster in my pants
I don’t know which one I’m more afraid of
But when fantasy recedes to reality
I know I’m barely adequate

And if they can see that
If they know the truth too
Then please go ahead and let me go
I’ve seen it all now and I can tell when I’m not wanted

These things are always happening
These things are still there now
But you just cry about this
And cry about that
Because there’s not much else you can do

The Weight of the Phrase

How ya doin'?
 How are you?
  What's happening?
                  How you doing?
  How are you doing?
 How                  you doin'?
What's up?
                Hi, how are you?
How are you today?
   Doin' good today?
How's the family?
Helloareyoufeelingalright?
          Nice weather we're 
havingHow are you?

I'm great, how are you?

Employee of the Week

Too many things to lie about
And to lie about it to the twelve dozen strangers
I’ve greeted today
Is the real tragedy

That damn clock
I can’t reach it to tape it over
I can’t reach it to knock it off
I can’t look
I can’t look away
The time doesn’t fly
When you’re stuck thinking
Every second of it

Numbers, numbers and more numbers
I never want to see a number again

Grant yelled at me
Telling me to smile
But he was nice about it
But it has to be there
It has to come naturally
I don’t have it
I don’t want to

People know a fake smile anyway
It can be more disheartening than a frown

I feel like I’ve devolved
My first job was terrible
This one’s decidedly worse
But I shouldn’t complain
Even if the truth is: I don’t
Not enough
It all goes in this book
Where no one sees it

I think the real point of complaining
Is getting someone to listen

But this is who I am
Nothing spectacular
No matter how much I want to be
I might spend the rest of my life
Putting people I don’t even care about
Before myself
Without a smile
But trying
And maybe one day
I’ll find true love if I can look her in the eye

Big Black

Comfort zone?
Never heard of it
Limits are lies
No surprise
I’m below sea level
Watching the big black fish
Eat the little black fish
Maybe I’m next

Terra’s a big black mess
And it pumps its indigestion
Like it’s second nature
Maybe it is
Not and then some