June around here tends to be gray and damp, and this year seems to be no exception. I woke early today and took a walk in the drizzle. It was good for my creative spirit. I was able to lay hold of some ideas and images that had been alluding me as have most of my word-based endeavors. I have decided to change my schedule and shake up my days a little. Today it seemed to work. Now I must shower and move into my regular life of work and errands and socializing. I leave this poem to mark my place on my internal map. This is the door I came out of into my day.
layers Overlap, gray dull and black
Sticky with residue of leaking lives
And skeletal corrugation.
NOT AN EXIT, sign on a door closed to the alley,
3 feet up the wall, no steps or platform.
Maybe an exit in?
The price of admission,
all of you.
One bit less and you are shut out
In the bland pasty lands
Undercooked, but not raw.
Either way, eminent death
Desire and incomprehensible visions
Of the apocalypse travel with you
Constantly as the road
Penetrates your shell
passes through you,
leaving an exit wound