Archive for ‘Inertia Variations’

March 23, 2014

CVI

Past Prime

Contact with anybody
who has produced work of quality
fills me with an air of thwarted yearning empathy,
an implausible sense of fraternity,
a melancholy sting.  Regret and resentment
gnawing at me, eating me alive.
This is what you reap
when you haven’t sown anything.

February 21, 2014

Chair, Sofa and Bed

Repetition

Between these three points of love
and sloth (mostly the latter),
I flounder.  Resting, without laurels,
restlessly.  Pausing between pauses,
to inventory this harvest of  regret;
to consider from every angle of  unease,
this permanent rut… to forever name remainless,
staring at a curtain.

November 15, 2013

Watching, Listening, Waiting

Irrelevance
Putting in the time:
Watching: the trembling curtains.
Listening: to the constant hum of indecision.
Waiting: to languish without remorse or hope
of false dawn; to be able to do nothing
and call it nothing. To sink:
where I have never sunk before.
To fade, only to be found again.

November 8, 2013

Improvidence

Improvidence

The other lives I might have led
all now might as well be
dead. Survived by no one.
Barren, without issue of  any sort:
this withered bud, failed
in art and love. With no time left
to change my course. But time enough
for infinite remorse.

November 7, 2013

Time Moves, But Not I

Entropy

I am no stranger to waste, to bouts of tranquilizing
Self-abuse: drifting off with wilting rod in flowering fist.
Thoughts sliding like water across a pane of glass
And over the edge
Of the sofa and elsewhere. And tension detours
To parts unknown, on days that pass unknown;
Held together by dust,
By boredom and all its  blossom.

October 16, 2013

From Conduit to Cipher

Forfeiture
For too long a conduit I have been,
receptive only to the works of others.
In this way, in a way, I have kept myself
going; and were it not for the pleasure
and enrichment I receive at this font,
I might long ago have given up.
Then again, I might have
achieved something myself.

October 10, 2013

CXIII

Failure

There’s no point forcing it.
I’ve been forcing it for long enough:
going through the motions, motionlessly,
directionlessly, pleasurelessly. Attempting
is no longer tempting.  Other than to furnish myself
with further proof of incapacity, there doesn’t seem
to be much point in trying anymore.
Maybe I can give up after all.
I should never have doubted my ability
in that area.

 

 

October 7, 2013

FEELINGS

Failing at Feeling

I may as well face the fact
that I am no longer capable
of doing what I once believed
I was capable of  doing.
Not that I had any reason to assume
that I was capable of it.
It was just a feeling that I had.
And now I have a different feeling.

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September 28, 2013

That Time of Day

Termination

A destructive overawareness of time
knives through the hot empty spaces
of an afternoon. A sense of urgency vaporizing
into torpor. Even the traffic sounds tired.
Do something, I tell myself.
What?  The same thing I’ve been doing
every day for years on end
with varying degrees of failure.

September 18, 2013

CXXIX

Spent force

I dread the ordeal of enforced jollification,
the pressure of pleasure: those strained circumstances
when something is thought to be wrong with you
if you cannot enjoy yourself under conditions
that are supposedly ideal for enjoyment.
Some people like to have fun.
I realize I’m not that into it.
It sounds tiring.

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