road trip Rob

leave me alone
leave this altogether
bring back
whatever looks
nicely done within the confines
of the task
laid before you
look back
wonder
where did things go right
when did I become this
he who stands before himself
blurring the distinction
man and what
who are we you might ask
a shake of the head
do not
look so sad laden with unseen
emotions laid out
for the coming day
ordered for maximization
break off the bead
fling strings across rooms
bring it back
to this
leave me not alone.

The feel of earth between my fingers. The wholeness of being that comes with it. I can’t imagine something different, something unclean as earth is. The sweat, grime, semen and blood that becomes one; isn’t there something in this? Can’t you imagine the clenched fist, proclaiming love? What if this is all there is? What if this is all there is? What if this is all there is?
Look across this bloody sky, take it, make it yours. Proclaim this soil “mine;” not for some utopian ideal, not for some moneymaking play. Greed comes from sight, from what’s in front of us. It comes when we have nothing else, and all we see consumes us.
Pretend what you feel means something. Look to your blood; clench your fist high, feel the flow and flutter of muscle beneath your flesh, rippling beneath skin. Imagine you think I had no idea what I was talking about.
Consider that I suppose.
What we need is in front of us, what we need is there for taking, for controlling. What we need is to take control of what’s in front of us, rein it in, bring it into our being. A shallow man, grasping for some semblance of control? A shallow water running, slipping away. Please come save me from this, look at this and tell me I need saving.
Whatever you do, do not come.
Do not read this with intention, for with intention means with thought, with planning, with the idea that this means something. Read this as a man feels, as a man feeling, plunging his heart into another, pounding through.
Look at this skepticism, look at this is all I ask, look at this and take nothing. Take nothing to your next day. Take nothing to your next day. The slippery feelings fall away.

I’ve been in this spot before
looked out
or in
as the case may have been
I think I can say for certain
I’ve been in this spot before
relay this message as best you can
from some non-abyss
shallow depths of my mind
watch these lines
literally
skip lunch next time
eat more dinner
next time
I’ve been here before
born again
lost again
afraid again
afraid again
look out across this expanse
vast curtained left behind
look, this means something
I’ve been in this spot
I have been here
laugh
if you will I know I will
shake your head
you know and I know
you know
so meet my gaze partway at least
look down in surprise
scream
wail
pretend this is something else.

I write because I have to? I’ve considered that option. I’d like to lay claim to it. I’d like to tell people when they ask, “I’m a writer.” Too many “I’d like’s.”

lay claim to this
take it for your own
the same letter jumps out
looking down
considering such
pleasant thoughts
some such
plaguing haunts
stretch
reach
internalize external
embrace the new
stop making
statements
felt shards
I felt shards of
shall we say
sorrow
morosity
laid at her feet
I danced that night
under a smoky dark sky
on tilted floor
place this
erase this from memory
for only good.