An Experiment in Humanity

I wish I was a rhythm builder

A dream-house bricking flower picker

Building up building up

And breaking down

This is a poem

Without a steady rhythm

Made of long nights and cold coffee

And it’s got a beat

That’s fleeting

It’s a body of words

Still warm and pulsing

That walks about in the cold

Winter air

Wearing just a slip and a trenchcoat.

With slick and wet hair

And a scarf of fluid wool

This is the wool

Over the eyes of the warm body

I tether to the bedposts,

Not gentle but a scattered rhythm like

A cantering train

Whistling occasionally

Poem.

So I’m not political

And I’m not satirical

So I’m not fantasia in perfect

Cartoon pastel detail

And I won’t sugar coat hope

On the outside of bitter pills,

Just chew,

And swallow.

Down it with mineral water and gin.

Don’t keep the powdered pain of today

Crushed up in the back of your throat

Do you understand?

Because I do daily

Think of why this is the world I live in- a world

Where nothing is ever certain or infinite.

I’m not a rhythm builder,

Not a carpenter of words and silences-

They’re often awkward and

They stick

Like cricks in the neck of a giraffe, colorful and

Swaying in the African breeze.

I’m not a sugar-coater

I drink my coffee black

And take my whiskey straight and my women

Curvy.

I’d rather see you cry than laugh.

But I’d rather see blood than that,

After all,

I’m only human.