5 to 10 Minutes

August 01, 2020

Five to ten here
Write a poem about it 
And get angry about it 
And what good it does 

Blue thumb
You drew it yourself 
And might get ink poisoning 
If you’re not careful.

We went to his house in 
Venice. 
And smoked cigarettes and ate lamb 
And listened to his records 

He seems like a cool person 
The smoking and the cooking 
And the music too 
Music, always music 

It gets dimmer
Colder 
And the contemplatives 
Weep. 

For they are too 
Contemplative for their own good 
What with their drawing mazes 
And lists

You come here to sit, think 
It’s a reflex
She has a tattoo on her ankle 
I wonder if someone died

Do people ever take the time to 
Revise? Even as he writes 
This he looks at it with disdain--
Oh so much potential. 

Buzzing in the pocket 
This mailbox is full--
And the planes fly over 
Not to be seen till they reach,

And the contemplatives sit and 
Think and be happy tracing the
Ebbs and flows of their 
Brain activity. 

The wonder, ‘why not 
Us?’ but it’s far too
Late for that now Roger, 
So send me the notes 

Now we wrap up our 
Thoughts and this’ll 
Be looked at not for a 
Long while. 

Unlike the sun 
Setting here
Miles away. Reach 
Out. Reach. 

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