how many years did i run and cover over the hole?
not able to know the wholeness
until I stopped
and felt it–
empty,
nothing there,
alone.
leave me to it.
don’t soothe me,
it needs to be seen–
i’m lonely for —
union.
lonely aches
behind the sternum,
and leaks out of my eyes.
i’ve the courage now to feel it–
lonely,
and I’m pressing into that bruise.
-letting it be there.
letting is
composting me
letting is
squeezing out juice
yet here i am, still asking lonely
grant me
courage without aid
without aspirin
without the phone
without the tubes (You and cathode ray).
hobby callings
flattened.
i am headed to flatline
daring defribulation when
either side of death
is now okay.
the pulse is not mine to keep or lose.
ha, never was.
ARGH,
the tone is way too serious, here.
from lonely comes
hilarity
eventually.
this serious poem is a
belly laugh, on the other side!
but first i seem to be
leaning into whatever
had me running
to begin with.
for years.
good god
what!
Life as Improv 
Nice one!
S! Sending squeezes.
While simmering in the juices of time we inhale the vapors of clarity. mike
every november, I seem to be basting for the feast of me. I’m so grateful you grasp my gibberish 🙂
Indeed my friend, indeed.