too many
cigarettes tired

tired all the
time tired

two in the morning
writing
poetry tired

brain tired
road tired
time for bed tired

over-tired

wishing I didn’t
have to get up
and go to
work tired

nodding off
with my fingers
on the
keyboard tired

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

(D. James)

if this were
an actual poem
we would tell you
how to feel
about it

or at least
express something
worthy of an
emotional response

(D. James)

kicking
to catch it
with the side
of my shoe

spinning
it skitters
into the light

much like my thoughts
on this deathly cold day

(D. James)

as if I
were some one
other than me

those days
and days
of years
the many nights
the horrible “mornings”
of the afternoon

washed clean away
by different thoughts
other actions

I remember a time
when I was
some one else
when I told
a different story

I remember as if
read in a novel
or seen in a film

I remember
so as not to forget
so as not to become
what I’ve been
what was left behind

(D. James)

to run
with the speed
of a panther

to laugh
with the abandon
of a child

to work
and play
and love
as if
I cannot fail

to sleep
like the dead
and dream
as the mystics do

this is how I wish
to spend
the days and nights
before returning to dust

(D. James)

can we keep
clear of calamity and
concious of creation or

will we wile awhile then
whip ourselves or

take the time
to think thoughts on
trains

while wishing
we weren’t wending our
way to work

(D. James)

something
I don’t want
to see in me

avoiding
myself
by looking
everywhere
other than here

trying to get
out of my head
when I should
be in bed

another late
night

another wasted
morning

couldn’t I get
the same result
in another way

or another result
in the same way

it’s all the same
in the end

(D. James)

used to think
I knew everything
or could
at least
fake it

now
I don’t know
is often
my answer

but I’ll make something up
if it makes you feel better

(D. James)

and no one
gets back

what to do

feeling disconnected
feeling like no one’s
out there
feeling like no one
wants me

it’s only a thought
they’re all just busy
right now

in an hour
everyone
will call back
at once

and I’ll have
3 voice mails
and 5 text
messages

while trying
to get through
to my sister
in Tucson
to say
I love you

(D. James)

when the woman
you love says
it doesn’t mean anything

like your love
doesn’t matter
like you
don’t
matter

it isn’t what she means
it’s just how it sounds
to you
in the moment
as she says goodbye
for the last time

what do you do
knowing she’s already
calling another man
lover

do you give in
to the rage
let it consume you
or can you find a way
to let it all go

as if it really
doesn’t matter

(D. James)