As I Do Now

I once wrote a line in a poem
That read, “I am afraid like I
Am at home in the darkness.”
That was when I was younger
And didn’t fear the darkness
As I do now.
I know it’s kind of dumb
But I fear more criminals
Are lurking around each corner.
They might be in dark clothes
Or something I can’t see.
And recently my eye sight
Has been going
But I haven’t mentioned it
To anyone, because sometimes
I imagine I can see everything
Clearly and am able to
Fool myself for a few days
Thinking that everything is in focus.
Until the next street sign comes along.
Don’t you notice how mostly every
complaint begins with a certain level
of blindness?
Last night someone drove past my house
Stopped in the front of my driveway
And opened the door to his car.
All the while I was looking out my window.

Your Query

I had left my computer at the office
So I decided I wouldn’t write tonight
I decided I would do something else
Like play with my children who swatted
At a wiffle ball or poked each other in the head
I wanted some of that, I guess
Really they love me and get really excited when I
Step onto the field.
It is the closest thing I have to a major league
Introduction
But I’m used to it.
I still hear that many poets
Tink away on their typewriter keys
Candle flickering, revealing a moonlit
Piano or a shine on the pond.
Geoffrey Nutter told me this.
Not the landscape or pond bit
But the way he writes,
With a typewriter.
I had only met him once and therefore
Had no reason to doubt him.
I never doubt anyone I have met only once.
That is my motto.
I suppose I don’t take my words
As seriously as someone striking
the delicate mechanism, with its
Inversions of darkness,
And smudges it shape like the edges
Of moth dust after I’ve swatted
It against the glass refrigerator
I feel sort of unlucky tonight
Like the sunset is going to be my last one
That I might just foul out.
That I’ve come up with a word
In a poem and nothing fits purely against it.

For A Few

For A Few

I am not a carpenter
And this is not a religious poem
So just forget your prejudices
For a few.
As I was saying
I am not a carpenter
But I sure do love putting
Together those kit desks,
Bureaus and computer karts
I stood outside my office
Speaking this way to
The night janitor,
I wish I could make a living putting
These together.
Usually there is an extra charge
For it and I figure the majority
Of people would not want to spend their
Days in this sort of labor.
That’s why jigsaw puzzles are
A dying art.
Whereas thirty years ago
There was even a market for magnifying glasses.
I think now life is just moving faster
And nobody has time for jigsaw puzzles
Or kits of furniture.
But maybe there are some
A secret society of people
Who come into work ar night like cobblers
At the Sauder factory and they do
All of them.
They bring their lunches to work
There is free juice and condiments in the cafeteria
Their healthcare package is the best around
It is even better than the one at Yankee Candle
Who I’ve heard has declined somewhat over recent years
And does so especially around Christmas time when Santa Claus
Takes over the indoor tennis courts.
They spend their breaks working
On jigsaw puzzles, kind of keeps
Their mind working
Through things
Business is kind of
Slow here anyways
In walks the fella whose
Job it is to put extra screws
And dowels in the bags
It makes people real happy
When they have leftovers
Of any kind. And might
Be able to fill a few
Coffee cans full.
I used to collect coffee cans
But nowadays I end up working later
And later
I work right on pass the night
Janitor. He waves at me
Through my window
We have become good friends