I close my eyes

I close my eyes

And the world ends.

It only exists inside my head

When I’m dead

It will be gone

(Arse about face).

But then childish dreams

Will keep popping in and out

Of the miasma

Of stored memories

From childhood.

When the wide blue sky

Was a dome

Galileo discovered a lake

In Isreal

The earth was as it was seen

As flat as the ground

I stood upon.

Nothing prepared me for loss

You think it would,

The way of life

The natural progression

Toward an ending

Which always seemed just

An arm’s length away

But far enough not to harry

The onrushing traveller

Until the first of the unforeseen

And the floor fell out

From beneath my feet.

Kissing my Grandma’s

Forehead

As she lay

Cold as ice

Lifted into the coffin

To bid her farewell.

I wasn’t sure where she was going

But I was sure I didn’t want to follow.

Did it make anything better

Who can tell?

I never forgot

The feeling of terror

She might open her

Dead eyes

And scream.

As would I.

My hair stands on end

I am Medusa

Keep me away from a mirror

Even at the thought.

Foreknowledge

Would have crippled me

Second guessing

Is human nature

Not that I would know

As nothing really exists

Outside of me.

Isn’t that subjective idealism

Am I nothing more than

A solipsism?

The narcissists would agree

Poets write about it

Philosophers argue

And humanists gaze in awe

At their navels.

I sit and wonder

At the pointlessness of it all

In silent admiration

Of the somnambulists

Who stumble blindly

Through

Without waking up

For long enough

To unzip the sleeping bag

And step out of time.