10-21-93 Beyond

New York


Beyond sleep the words rest reclining on a plaid sofa
The much needed center avoids me now
Without it those phrases from the dozens of conversations
Are hull-less, without containment

The others see the fire flickering from my soul to tongue
Saying “write, write, take this energy”
I remain uninspired for that

To speak I fire on all eight cylinders
To work the challenge becomes routine
To love my hands clench and open empty
Bathed in balanced light and human warmth

Is the glow so easily tasted by their eyes?
The well spent feeling of well spent time feeling
A fragile balance makes me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof
Yet humble, never knowing what healthy ego looks like

And as I retire for the day I pause
To look for chinks in the armor…

…and give up bored;

Beyond sleep
Beyond the words.