Still Life #101

Looking out over the lake...
Early for work,
As usual...
I like to sit
And think
Before clocking in...
Psyche myself up...
Calm myself down...
Let my mind wander...
A little bit like meditation,
But not...
Just taking it all in...
Sights, sounds, smells...
All these sensations
Swirling about in the world...
And I feel them all...
Some time or another...
There are a lot of miles left
On this highway...
Many more adventures to be had...
Dragons to slay...
Or, at least, tame...
The engine idling
Like a big cat's purr...
Comfy chair
With lumbar support...
Motor boats
Drawing crested wakes
Across the surface of the water...
Water towers and radio transmitters,
Upscale mansions,
And even a lighthouse...
Great still lifes to be had...
One lone tree tries to block the view
Making some artistic statement...
Defiant,
And dying,
From the looks of it...
Not too far gone
To be revived
With care
And pruning,
But a house
Will likely
Take its place
Someday soon...
This view
Selfishly hoarded
By the back windows
That will be in that house...
Coffee by the lake,
Early morning,
Likely retired,
And from California...
Time rolling along...
Heavy wheels
Grinding in the dirt...
Meshed gears and augers 
Milling rocks and stones
Into fine, pale sand...
Grit for the river rocks
Tumbled to a dull shine
With smooth rounded edges...
Dark and fossil rich...
The ocean floor from some
Long ago age
Is the calciferous bedrock
Of the area...
Caves and caverns
Too numerous to count...
Just below the surface...
Like so many things are...

Disturbing My Peace

 Too many things try to pull me out of my peaceful place...
Individuals, corporations, the Government, "The Man..."
From all directions, periodic disturbances of my peace...
Staccato hiccups in my attempts to walk mindfully...
Rumble strips to my private thoughts...
I've gotten a bit more gruff over the years...
A bit more antisocial...
Maybe it's age and experience...
Maybe it's toxoplasma gondii from exposure to too many feral cats...
Maybe I'm just now opening my eyes...
Both jaded and enlightened, in equal parts...
There's balance of sorts...
I no longer need the rapt attention of an entire college town population
To feel like a real human...
I can self-validate...
I've tightened my circle [Take that every way you like...]
Reassessed my boundaries...
Broadened my scope of view...
Peace is, necessarily, a hard fought state...
It's often a goal you can get close to, but never fully attain...
Or, if attained, not for very long...
And why?
Because people are assholes...
They disrupt any introspection...
Fuck with my works...
Pull me out of my peace...
It's like building a house of cards with a toddler...
Or a cat...
Demolition is half the fun...
So you'll rarely make it past the first floor...

Another Maze for the Rat

 20 after midnight...
Have to wake up early...
Sleep,
When and where actually needed,
Has never come easy...
Not on a regular schedule...
There's a ritual
Of sorts...
Milestones that have to be reached...
Time takes its time...
A certain undetermined
Number of minutes
To be lost in thought...
Even while distracted
By an indeterminate number of minutes
Of internet TV,
In the very least,
Providing background noise...
Ferrets tumbling across the floor,
And rumbling
Through corrugated black tubes...
Occasional kisses and belly rubs...
Relaxing enough
To allow myself to sleep
Takes time...
Naps are easy...
Sleep comes easier
When the sun is up...
Dreams are actually remembered
When the sun is shining...
The night swallows my dreams...
Holds them like a secret
From my conscious mind...
The transition from sleeping
To waking
Is jarring...
Often physiologically so...
And that, too, takes time...
Mental preparation...
Nothing comes easy...
Nothing comes naturally
Except for my ability
To improvise...
The will to survive...
The ability to adapt...
Everything else is a maze
For the rat...
It comes complete 
With electric shocks,
And buttons that dispense food pellets...
Maybe even a tiny 
Minotaur analogue
At the center of this...
Positive and negative reinforcement...
That's how they train you
To do funny little tricks...
Jumping through hoops...
Pressing all the right buttons,
And avoiding all the ones
They have deemed to be "unacceptable"...
Paying your taxes...
Exchanging ones and zeros
For necessary,
As well as unnecessary, 
Goods...
Sometimes little green
Pieces of paper...
Writing down the findings
To be published
In a peer reviewed journal...
Determining the value
Of the hypothesis and of the individual
To the profit margin
Of the corporation...
As above so below...
Society is a model
Of an individual mind...
The things we do to each other,
We do to ourselves...
And we often
Get way off track...
Like this poem...
I seem to recall it being about sleep,
And my uneasy grasp
Of transitioning either
In or out of it...
Rambling thoughts
Are an anxious response
To that moment,
I suppose...
The torrent of words in 
Dozens of small thoughts
That swirl around madly...
They don't all deserve my attention,
But they all draw my attention...
I get by...
I'm used to it by now...
They chatter like water
Bubbling down a small stream
Winding through the woods...
Back ground noise,
Just like the TV's static...
Another maze for the rat...

Footprints on the Windshield

 No more footprints 
On the windshield 
On the passenger's side...
Had to clean up the Jeep 
To transport a client...
It had probably been at least a year
Since it last got cleaned...
She used to
Put her feet up on the dash
When we went driving...
I didn't keep them there
For any sentimental reasons...
Just pure sloth,
But I'd periodically notice them,
And think that cleaning the windshield
Would be symbolic...
Then another thought would stumble by
Drunkenly,
Starting conversation,
And I'd forget that thought
Until I noticed the dirt
Again...
Now it's a blank slate
Ready for new footprints,
Sneaker prints, or sandal prints...
Another love story erased
Once time had revealed
Its true character...
Another cul-de-sac
With no exit
But the way you came in...
Abandoned houses
In a failed housing complex
Looking like the model towns
Obliterated in White Sands...
Nature always takes over...
Life goes on...
Sometimes flourishing
Once the past has been cleansed,
And emotions
Learn their place...
x