Poems
by Tohm Bakelas
a poem for me
lacking inspiration
lacking influence
lacking money
lacking feeling
lacking sight
lacking heart
lacking time
lacking, lacking
lacking suffering
lacking pain
lacking excitement
lacking articulation
lacking ambition
lacking drive
lacking life
lacking, lacking, lacking,
lacking, lacking,
lacking
GUILTY.
detritus
for jeff maser
i obsess over missing mail packages,
refresh the tracking page 100 times a day,
wondering where it is? howd it get lost?
jersey city is only 45 minutes from denville,
why didnt they call me up?
yeah, uhh, hi, mr. bakelas?
yes thats me
listen this is duncan over at the jersey city
distribution center, we got those books you
bought from jeff maser, why dont you swing
on down and pick em up? you just mention
ole duncans name and youll get em in a jiffy!
shit man, thats great im on my way
but thats not how it happens,
thats never how it happens
the books travel to an unknown dimension,
through regions not yet discovered in new jersey,
before arriving into my hands 10 to 15 days late
and when i tear open the package and hold the
books in my hands, i can hear all the duncans
of the world shouting: just be thankful it even arrived!
and ill sit down with my new books,
look at them, stack them with the rest,
walk away, and leave them for another day
stone masons
the masons pound stones
into patios with hammers
that have names ill
never know
their hands become the hammers,
the stones become their life.
i drive by knowing nothing
of their way, wishing
i could comprehend
the work they
undertake,
yet i comfortably walk amongst
violence and madness in a state
psychiatric hospital with locked
doors and locked wards.
and i suppose thats the way it goes,
the man with the inept hands
wishes for working hands
while the man with the inept mind
wishes for a working mind.
perhaps i am overreaching.
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