i'm losing my grip
just like these seagulls
circling my neighborhood
far from the ocean
perhaps oregon will
at last keep its promise
crumble into the sea
and take me with it
the last days of winter
fall in endless raindrops
from rusted gutters
the sound of insanity
i'm circling inside
my own head now
wondering when i stop
and when i go
the wind comes up
and carries the gulls
high upon airy waters
i'm stuck here on
the ground as usual
drowning in boredom
2 commentaires:
I want to say first I love the look of your blog - so clean and neat, so good for those overwhelmed by sensory stimuli.
I appreciate the gull metaphor. I used to watch them in OR scavenging in a park amongst random fast food wrappers tilting their heads as if to say, "How did I get here?" Your gulls escaped over "airy waters". So might you with immune modulators if not ARVs. Hang on like a big water molecule. It doesn't need to drop. For my own selfish reasons, I wish the poem were not entitled "Last Days". Love you. Maureen
Hi Sparrow. I always seem to drop by on during a low. Boredom is necessary for teenagers but is unbearable as an adult. Boredom taught me to think for myself. Boredom gets me into trouble at work. :)
Please come visit and read through my little forey through the absurdity of the working life entitled "An Atom in Wonderland".
Click the picture of the ginger cat at the top of my home page.
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