Closer to 37

I step, the less I fear it

The less I fear anything

It’s not even fearing less

But not at all

Not punctuality

Or bills

How I’m seen


By now, by this age

I’m this me

Till curtains

Till applause 

And they will applaud

Or at least sympathetically put

Hands in front, shak shak–
The morning goes quicker than me, but I’m behind to still

See its sole back and upkicking.

So more hits on drum, sun

Through window

In eyes

A lecture

To the new number

Add them and you get 10

What does that mean?

Probably nothing

Just me looking for more meaning

More story and symbol

I was a teacher, you know–

Now I’m being instructed.

What do you do when

You have too much time?  

Is that ever an issue?

I have over an hour to just relax.
And I’m

Not comfortable with it–


Why do I always have to be working?

Do life writers and bloggers always have to be at a keyboard or scribbling madly on lines?

Ugh… What do I do?  What do YOU do?


Couldn’t sleep, so came downstairs.  Still quite awake.  Again with the fork, left keep going, right right back to bed.  I’m going right, in a minute, just sitting in vehicle enjoying the view, quiet.  Other writing fathers know the addictive nature of moments that are so slated in uniqueness that they have to hold them, like the babies, just for a couple clock blocks, small but significant.

Final in the morning.  In class before 7– “Go to bed, Mikey!  What are you, a fool?” Starting to think I may be…  But we are the ones who just act without think, just create from whatever’s around us.  Fridge humming gentle, some clock down here making the most cliched slow tock-tock (not much tick-y to its sound)…  Then the fridge stops and I should go back to dreams, if I was dreaming.  Was I?  Can’t remember.  Don’t think I dream as much as I used to.  Well, not when asleep anyway.

3:04.  Fuck you, clock!  What if I just went at that coffee I made last night, stayed awake, and write even more than I did in yesterday’s advancing morning types?  Not this morning.  Not attacking the 4AM province.  Not this morning.  Know I could, but I’ll bask in last morning’s push a little longer.  Stay just outside its borders and know I could.  But am holding off, just a little longer.  Till tomorrow. That victory sort tastes much better.