One day

Continuing what’s becoming a theme…

One Day

Without noticing suddenly
you cannot easily pull your
sweatshirt over your head.
Each morning you perform athletic
routines getting into your pants.
Rising from chairs, your muscles
will cry out. Sleeping will bring
rest but also body-wide tightness
driving you prematurely from bed.
Every step you take becomes fraught:
you'll concentrate on each one (if
you know what's good for you),
relearning how to walk. Climbing
steps will be similar as you
wonder alternately how you
could confuse distances which
rise regularly before you, and
how you ever did it when younger.
"Lift with your legs" no longer
something preached by your
health-and-safety officer, but
your new mantra for avoiding
three days' bedrest. Concentrating,...

...you become a true zen master,
without trying—as the sutras say.

78/100
100 poems in 100 days

Dithered

No, that’s not me in reality, just in spirit.
Whither my dither?
And from whence? It
comes from focus, from
obsession, from lack
of limits on myself.
Grabbing issues, tick-like,
never to let go until they're
drained dry. Resembling
mad scientists in old
movies, eyes-a-poppin'!
Discussions become
arguments; paying bills
sends me on trips into
financial rabbit-holes
where accountants fear
to tread. My mind, honed
razor-sharp cuts anything
in its path. Too bad if it's
me, too bad if it's you.
Something seems near-
guaranteed to blow.
Comfort or habit? Can't
tell, but it promises
familiarity, which
brings confidence
(deserved or not).

66/100
“One hundred poems in one hundred days!” (but my sense of time is fluid)
two-thirds to being there