Sunday, July 2

An old poem


















Anxiety is rising
Up into the sky like grey smoke
My ribs push hard against their prison
A color streak in the corner of my eye
Whips my head around
Class was dismissed years ago
But I still dream every Sunday
I am back on my ten-speed
God where does all the time go

I saw you the other day
When you didn't know I was looking
Vultures were near
And an echo of sermons
Tossed my thoughts wildly
I couldn't say what made me smile
Right then, but it was a nervous smile
Voice stuck inside a golden throat
Forever passed that instant

Anxiety is rising
It is all I can do right now to
Keep my eyes from closing
My mind rushes through all the outcomes
Heart sputters like batteries in the gutter
I thought I'd figured this out
A long time ago
But there are roads which never end
And low, lonely waypoints abound.

(painting is Anxiety by Edvard Munch)

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