it's in there
it’s in there
I stood at my kitchen sink
in the early evening
as the sun streamed
through the south door of my apartment
during the middle of the week,
the reality in front of me
was a cutting board and a knife,
I moved the blade
from my left hand to my right
and a change of perception
allowed me to see,
Caspar David Friedrich’s painting
The Wanderer above the Sea,
it’s the idea of potential
that’s challenging,
“I could have been anything,”
turns into
“I should’ve picked something,”
which eventually becomes
“I never did anything.”
Pink Floyd’s ‘Time’,
it’s staring at this lamp
that I remember an alternate me,
could we have been happy?
Fault shouldn’t be given for wondering,
but if I’m asked again
to read someone else’s poetry
I’ll say, “If you need
the approval then why
are you still writing?”
I’ve never cursed so much
as when the procrastinator in me
faces midterm week
and I’m assigned another poet
that I don’t want to read,
it’s funny
that when I’m struggling
all I need is some different scenery,
Kant’s idea
of the sublime vs. beauty,
four beers or three,
does nutrition matter
if I’m no longer smoking?
It’s weird that we’re aging,
but don’t feel the need of necessity.
Life like a recurring fantasy,
but without encouragement
is it possible for today
to keep up with eternity?
We’re the ones tasked
with solving the problem of humanity,
I don’t want to let unpredictability
weigh me down
while the calendar
moves from what could be
to something more like
a tyrant of authority,
it bounces between
polar extremes,
trying to stay on track with a dream
when the summary of things
is a looping dance with destiny,
I close my eyes
and take your hand in mine
while we witness
open heart surgery,
a Nicolas Cage movie,
it took a tragedy for Elijah Wood to break free,
we try to hide what we value
as if it gets loose then we’ll lose,
but the truth is
that as a seed
a man can’t grow
without giving away
what he needs.