Jacks

October 23

Jacks

Born crazy, is that better than becoming deranged?  Do birth affects excuse my unrepentant glee?  Does irrepressible sardonic wit explain the order of restless exposition?  Can you count on Cicadic enthusiasm to carry me, or flightless fancy to keep me down?  I am beyond redemption, beyond reception, beyond device.  I arrived riddled with chaotic cracks, but I am more than just a glaze and deep down I’m more than sound, so walk with my wild side and your thoughts I’ll rearrange.

When you can’t fill the void, wallpaper

*

BEFORE THE END OF THE ROAD

Before the end of the road tiny stone lay on the side
Freshly painted lines glimmer in this twilight trance.
Walking the macadam, the crunch underfoot
Changes my perspective.

No steering wheel or accelerator
This is ankle express all the way.
Walking the road , step by step, on my own
I am part of the soft and growing world.
Progressing on a plan of separate integrity

Moist, lush wonder, is missed
By the motor speedway I let rule my life
Honeyed sweetness covers the vegetation
Swaying in the undulating air born pulse.

I am tempted to lie down and have a roll
But my role tonight is to reach the end of the road.
When my goal is achieved I may choose
A woodland life or an urban endeavor.

Seeing the end of this path is job enough for now.
Decisions anticipated prior to arrival
Are foolish diversions.
I need to stay, not stray with the dancers in the wind.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Alone in a NewWay

June 25

ALONE IN A NEW WAY

I am restored.  I have my sanity like a spring coat.  I am not sure I need it but it’s nice to have nevertheless.  I prayed for this state of reason believing it would give me entry to a world where I was a late arrival.  Much to my chagrin I have found myself obscenely early to a party I am no longer sure will ever take place.  I stand in the entrance hall and practice new dance steps.  I search the space for prospective partners but rarely see anyone who is swaying to the same beat.  I am grateful for my sanity even if I have to enjoy it alone.

Write a sassy letter and let it dance.

*

I am Not an Island

Upon finding myself alive

I decided to throw my life back into the sea.

I was not living on this dry and sandy shore.

The baking sun does nothing to improve me.

I was belched forth onto the beach,

but never belonged there.

I tried to see myself as evolving,

tried desperately to sprout some legs.

Sucked air through my gills and attempted to sing.

I am not ready for this today.

Perhaps this is my future,

the way the current will carry me that I cannot  tell.

I do know I need the water on my scales

and pressure in my lungs right now.

I do not know what tomorrow brings

Or what I am capable of

just that I will not fault myself

for not having been born a dove.

No Reason

September 5

No Reason

Reason falls through, where it lands is a place of unknown seascape and unrelenting tides. The roar in my ears furthers the disorienting effect of relocation. At first it seems easier to let go of reason but when I descend into madness I scramble for purchase; looking for sanity like a cleft in a cliff. Loss of skin and blood is nothing to compare to the loss of my mind. I believe I could be more easily separated from a limb or two than to lose rein on my brain. Reason falls through; I must follow even though the terrain is arduous and my heart is sometimes faint, for without reason there is no reason and without reason there is no life.

Write songs to the dead, sing them to the living

*

HATCHLING

When the shell gets too tight

It’s time to hatch.

I can’t tell you it’s safe out there

Just that it’s time to go.

The leaving is not easy.

Exodus fulfilled by the use of one small tooth

This experience may or may not prepare you

For the rest of your life.

So much still depends on predestination

And your attitude.

I mean are you a chicken or a hawk?

A peacock or a dove?

Or is there something of which I am unaware.

Did someone sit on your nest

Or cover it with sand?

Are you a turtle, lizard or snake?

See so much is out of your hands

But still your actions are your choice.