Friday, July 26, 2013

Progress Report

Note: Hang hope on one of the left hooks.
Take care to drape it well as it tends to knot up over time.

I would have called you.
I need more courage. I guess
that's what I need now.

Or it's just that I
fall like ashes do among
last embers of stars
when I think of what
I still must do in the world.

I sit here and dream
up set sequences,
dodgy moves among the heaps
of curled snags and hooks,
and hang the lurking
hope of better days to come
in that new wardrobe.

I was more present
in my world as my drunken
old self. Why is that?

July 26, 2013 9:06 AM


  1. This sounds like a very uncomfortable place to be in. It almost sounds like despair, but that cannot be, surely.

    1. I will go as far as complaint. Sort of. The true part is the last stanza. The rest is just word art. What I mean "the true part" is I have consistently more difficulty doing the daily chores sober. My immature inner state rebels against laundry, doing dishes and especially those odd tasks that come up from time to time. When I was a drunk, most of that was quiescent and did not put up a fight.

      I was then a much better gardener and household repair guy and housekeeper.

      Now. Imagine hating the world from that sort of place where you hate what you have to do in it. Imagine turning that backwards, a mirror, as you know the fault is really in you rather than the world and probably just means you are a spoiled kid. Blech... pfft...


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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