Status Update

— Jerry Dyer

I’ve had so much coffee
I can’t even tie my shoes.

There’s nowhere to go, anyway,
no fog to walk into,
no road or highway to bend.

The birds seethe in the trees
but nobody hears–grackles,
or blue-jays, or wrens–?

And nobody knows (I ask them)
if the moon is waning or full.
I’m stuck in the months without r’s,

oysterless days without rain or art,
where dawns promise God-awful heat,
and nights yield humid caves
full of desolate lonely sheets.

My dream-logs continue blank.

I have become an old man,
untethered to any longing
that could lift my eyes,
or pencil, or prick.

The waiter pushes the dessert cart
past my seat, but I know,
even without looking,
there’s nothing here
I haven’t already tried.

 

 

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