I am not an Island
Upon finding myself alive I decided to throw my life back into the sea. I was not living on this dry and sandy shore. The baking sun does nothing to improve me. I was dis-engorged onto the beach, but never belonged there. I tried to see myself as evolving, tried desperately to sprout some legs. Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing, but I am not ready for this today. Perhaps this is my future, the way the current will carry me that I can’t yet tell. I do know I need the water on my scales and pressure in my lungs right now. I do not know what tomorrow brings or what I am capable of just that I will not fault myself for not having been born a dove.
Remember that time passes
COLD AND FLU SEASON
The spiritual cold and flu season is upon me,
I am awash in reaction and confusion.
I have been overexposed to the dry thinking
And barking orders of the cough
So associated with this disability.
My eyes swell and blur with my refusal to accept reality
The tickle of discomfort from inhaling disagreeable ideas
Is small in comparison with the nausea I suffer when I swallow
Every line put forth from my dizzy and congested mind.
There is no pill to dissuade my symptoms
I must raise the heat on this inertiac little bug
Parasites breed in the stagnant water of my paralysis.
If I move in my sobriety, sweat a little and flush my system
I should be able to shake this insidious germ
Then I can reach my hand out to the people
Who caught the spiritual flu from me.