A poet of occasion,
I sit and write and wish
To step into the unknown
And claim this mess I've made
The night before: The sweats and chills,
I ride the rails, or toss and take to the edge of ready.
Then lying still—I catch my breath.
Yes, what a mess.
Went on all night—
A dream so significant it begged to be written.
But it left on the morning train,
So it's hit 'n' miss, and then
I recognize a pattern:
The shattered thoughts of last night's puzzle
Stealing dream's direction.
Reflection in a camera lens, I see my eyes.
Thought it was southbound, but then I found
A cinematic can of reel emoting
Till I can't control the pressure cooker.
Book me on the night train.
Taxi down the track of Watertown.
What measures many forces take to reclaim the darkness
Where stark reality is more illusion.
The battlefield is rich with fluids
of ally and enemy alike.
I try to write,
But better left to wind what does not drift in script.
I'll catch another car some other night
If the gore of blood and guts
Does not keep me up.
Ardi Keim (written 1/12/06)