tuesday, april 15

3am / not nebraska

i've let it get late again
i'm tired, my eyes are watering
and i haven't done anything at all today

jacob wrote earlier, he's back in lincoln
the strange familiar city i stumble
through so much in memory —

but now might not be the time, to talk
about all of that

this room is still a mess
my bed is still unmade
500 miles or ten thousand however
you count it hasn't changed much
in terms of my domestic habits,

and though i know this is only
a little dislocation for a world so large
i still don't have a handle on it whatever it is that confronts me

i keep myself offkilter, live in it
like the habit of prayer
i've been reeling so long from
the blow of your momentary regard
the three or four of you

that i'd feel lost with too much
direction ready to hand,
seasick at too steady a horizon.