Donny's Lament

Time to get my goddamn shit together.

Shit's gonna hit the fan.

I'm late for my growing season.

Gotta get off the grid, man.

I don't need no piece of paper to say I can drive.

Like hell I'm giving that truck away...

It's gonna be my home!

I can't stand this shit:

Cutting grass, paying the hydro bill, Wheel of Fortune, cupcakes

Fuck.

Suburban Spring

cats in windows
dogs inside of houses barking
curtains drawn and hanging neatly

distant roars of lawnmowers
aromas of freshly cut grass and grilling meat
the urgent joys of playing children on the wind

square patches of green
brilliantly coloured flowers in pots
miniature trees, ornamental grass, concrete animals

a swish of a car like a soft wave
the zippy whir of a floating bicycle
perfunctory nods of passer-bys

sunlit leaves sparkle and rustle gently
cars sit with sad purpose in driveways
spider web cracks split ashphalt

lawn chairs wait empty on porches
sprinklers flit endlessly
lines of siding, mortar, and shingles mark infinity

as I continue to look 
for the phantom cluck of a single bird
beckoning, warm, and lost.

Perspective

Most of the time

a gentle washing

is all one needs

to cleanse and

make float away

all the nastiness

of the day.

Myths

You really can't say that myths aren't true

Because they are most likely the truest of all things

Ancient narratives that pulse through your mind and tongue

An almost animal understanding always already there.

Greatness?

The goal is pursuit.

Be the chaser.

Harness the warm human magic

And make life possess you

With such raw intensity

That the business of the day  

Simply and gently falls away.

It’s so difficult to be interesting these days.

The greatest parties have the saddest hosts.

Mrs. Dalloway:

Buy the flowers for yourself.

Gatsby:

You are the pursued and the pursuing,

But so busy and tired.

I will keep wondering

most painfully

about greatness

and what makes it so.