thought the writing
was fueled by an addled mind
full of posession and obsession
which I am at times...was
and i guess still have my
muses....
two packs of small smokes
sit in front of me...one going
in this tin bucket laid on its
side...the smoke in its
bottom..away from the desk
safe..
coffee in a mug with a brilliant
flower..still dressed in the
going out clothes...
Dog for a walk...
sharp pei..something
different...female.brilliant
a one man dog..guard dog
a periphery of primal
and brilliant like the owner..
been a month from the
crutch of the drink....
and the intake of medication
for pain which I need...
one of the heavier narcotics
Im out of for the moment...
so this new placid lucidity
is present...matches the
spring air....that lull between
the heat of the bloom and
flux of busy traffic of motion..
storms and rains...
heat...the madness of
the realease of the long
winters balmy frididity

in the time away from writing
frantic and sitting down here
glued to the desk spiralling
a flaming wreck
I talked to many new minds
faces..words..emotions..
movements...mannerisms
of speech and body
vortex of movement for me
to physical attain by walking
instead of biking...flowing
past people....pushing
the body...exhaustion
no sleeping then or eating
proper....the writing was
fading in and out like I was..
I say here that the writing
on substance is ethereal
because its an altered state
but at a great cost to myself
and those that are about me..
its not often a favourable
wind that is exerted..
the kind milk sours...
the depression grinds
on the mind like a pack
of wolves on the feast of
flesh and bones...a grisly
apparition and feeling
within...the crash was
inevitable and the stay
was long in the psych..
writing was a hobby
since high school..then
a contest..a wit of wills.
I read much and often
and have taken it up
once again..getting
my library card back
so I can post from that
rambunctious place..

I watch the news as I
did as a teen..just as
happy and dire a place
as always....and the
music from cassette
to cd..to internet goes
steadily along like my
taste in fashion and
good clothes....the
more jaunty the more
will approach and be
comfortable to chat
another realm of
intellect to settle
amongst..a new class
of ladies to interchange
with and gents...

someone has a typewriter
my daughter will pick me
up for a visit where I carried
her as a baby..then young
child..walked as a young
teen when we reconnected

my step child I write too..
we keep in touch...the
brilliant alpha dominant
characteristic traits I
liked in my high school
crowd of vibrant minds
and creative souls...
"The struggle" as the
kids tag it today...

trade stories with the old
salts I meet now...smoke
trade or coin..for a story
they know me...and they
trip their excursion shorts
to me and we laugh...
or compare the compelling
changes of society...
remembering to keep fresh
as to the beginning or end
like a bell still vibrating with
its voice....the wavelength
the connection..

a new path for me and its
a good one....but I wonder
for the dark cloud will be
somewhere.....
why I have my dark dogs
why I tend to the good dogs
weaving in and out of the
textural experiences and
storytelling on the sit
and meet or the street
greet visages....

within all and without are
the repository of stories
to grist and mill...raw
and honed...polished
and ported...flitting
and fleet
like apparitions
we glimpse on the
beat..

I keep writing
the crutch removed
but the strength and
love of this craft
and the poets here
continues..

hoping to get a
laptop cord working
soon
in the meantime
the poems gather
the spring mists
fuel the imagination
and chores of
the ordinary day
round up the busy
business of existance
survival and the
moments of the
simple beauty

I shall continue to post
and I thank U for
your beautiful expressions
of life and thoughts...

sincerly

mr esker
..