Anticipating Transition

Anticipating Transition short poem

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I’m meditating in a Boise coffee shop
because I’m not writing well

my thoughts are a smeary slide full of animalcules
contained, self-important images that could fit
into a list-poem full of suggestions
that dares the reader to link meanings
because the poet is too lazy to try

I’m hungry and I’m starvation resistant
the mind inside my big body
not looking forward to being crammed
into a tiny airplane seat
touching a stranger at elbow and shoulder
some mother or business woman
her perfume sloughed thin
by a long day’s toil and her breath
three whiskey’s toward rude

we’ll be chasing the sunset west
into that American salad dressing sky
while all us citizens of the galaxies in our Local Group
move even faster at 1000 KM per second
toward a mystery called the Great Attractor
one of those cosmic things scientists
make theories about and declaim them confidently
such is their faith

I am attracted to the comfort of home and family
the mess and angst of the women in my life
my daughter’s crush on another girl
my wife’s decline toward and early grave
and I seem powerless to intercede in either

I watch out the window the mindless traffic
people of Idaho bustling toward their Friday night
or just hustling to get out of the 100 degree heat
and meditate again on this doom I’m committed to
happy to be going home
to dig my hands into the mess
tear, pull and try to bring it to some kind of order

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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Nadeem Qazilbash
Member

Transitions are inevitable, but one can pray for them to be smooth.

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Phase Transition

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Humanity is moving through a dangerous phase, transition. Animal instincts intact, driving things forward. The animal can take us only so far. Procreation, self preservation now impeding the way. Sex and violence, the endocrine ruling the day, our lives. Hormone

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I was strolling along one sunny morn, Didn’t quite realise when she left me; I kept walking on, Not knowing she wasn’t following me. In this world she would be but a misfit, For she possessed the caprice of innocence;