Addendum

But even harder still is finding way. Like
finding SILENCE! — a diamond in the eye
socket of rotted skull 10 feet under
marshy grounds of haunted cemetery.
A needle in sharps container.
A drop of blood on battlefield.
A grain of sand,
always was and always be.

Silence (I AM)

Here I am begging for silence but
what would I do with it if I found it?
It’s not like I could capture it like a
single icecube inside this sweating cocktail glass.
Not like eye (I), mesmerized, by bright colors
techni-cally tractor-beaming TV
essence into boxed-in screen. It’s not like
silence will buy me any real traction
in this loudness war of I AM.

I AM shouting, I AM crying, I AM laughing, I AM
doubting, I AM flying, I AM falling,
I AM burning, I AM dying.
I AM = more important than you are.

I AM surveyor of all I see. I AM
tall, I AM fit, I AM sexy, I AM
smart, I AM right.
Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—what’s that silent sound?
Seeping through poorly caulked cracks.
Confidence cra-ck-ing.

i am inadequate. i am small. i am poor.
i am fat. i am sick. i am stupid.
i am shuttered. i am cluttered.
i am pondered. i am bothered.
i am wandering aimlessly. i am lost.
yes, well—OK. admission is the hardest part.

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub’s Postmodern (Prose) poetry prompt, hosted by Anna Montgomery.

Ramblings of a Panicked Man

sorry, i have no fuel for that fire
stuck in the middle with you
and you

thought my chest would explode forasecondthere

Zen calm
is fuckin with my chest
breathing scared lungs into cardiac arrest

Zen calm
is fuckin with my breathing
chest is blessed into cardiac arrest

gold bricks rain down
knocking skull unconscious
as mixed blessings
pour out into sidewalk cracks

wanting to reach out just because
no one else does

Dreams
where I keep driving
miles past destination

Dreams
where I keep dying
miles … past destination