Sometimes when my heart is still,

Sometimes when my heart is still,

My head empty,

The thoughts I have lost

Sit just out of reach

On the street

In a passing car or

On a veranda

Leather boots propped up

On the rail,

The feet crossed

In repose

I suppose,

Looking too relaxed,

Smug and self-satisfied for

Calfskin

As pleased as punch

Whomever that might be.

I wish I was back in those shoes

Their walking

Seems to be done.

I wish the sky would unzip

And a giant hand

Reach down out of the blue

To carry them off.

They might just as well be gone

For all the good they do me

Half remembered things

Dripping out of a godly fist

Unfinished words

Paraphrasing in free fall.

I know this has a connection

With how I see the world

But they are just too far away

To gather in,

I watch them disperse

In a glut of broken English.

Nothing I say makes any sense

I stumble

In search of self

Reaching out before

All thought of satisfaction

Dissolves in a welter of foolish

Prattle

It is in the nature

Of digression

To throw out a bunch of phrases

Too peppered with adjectives

To be of any real value

And I am left

Holding on to nothing

Clutching at stale air,

Where my self-belief

Should be.

Whispering at the sky,

Wondering what to do about

My idea of the world

As a repository

For possible futures

Ill-formed beliefs

Unwanted consequences

Unregulated life lessons

And a registry of wish fulfilment

Stacked on dusty shelves

Piled higher

Than feels safe enough to leave

Unresolved.