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

Onion

June 28

ONIONS

“I heard people in meetings sharing about peeling onions.  They said they peel layer after layer until it’s all gone!  What the hell is that all about?"  I demanded in the general direction of my sponsor.

“Zealotry, it’s about zealotry.  I peel my onions too.  I have many layers of dried up, paper-thin, rhetoric that I use to protect myself.  I have to slit this papery husk and eject myself from the illusion to get at the living and vital usefulness underneath.”

“Then what?”

“Then I try to let God decide where is the best place to add my flavor.  Stew is good but salad is a treat.  I can go anywhere once the waste is stripped away.” 

“What about the issues you haven’t worked out yet?"  I bait my sponsor.

“Well, those are other onions,” is all she would say.

Allow a child to make you laugh.

*

Halfway Home

Too far to turn back to the origin,

not quite close enough to my destination;

I am halfway home.

I sometimes forget where I have come from,

forget too where I’m bound.

I gently remind myself I’m making progress

no matter what I know.

I am not where I started,

not where I am going,

but I am not without.

There is plenty to do and much to look forward to.

I lift my feet one at a time, left then right.

I try to keep the steps equally spaced,

to prevent past curves and circles.

Lost is not as bad as it sounds

though I do dream of clarity,

stone -free shoes

and a home cooked meal when I arrive.