She is on vacation and I miss her to the point of falling out sick. It feels like I am under the influence of some kind of alcohol that I’ve shot down for the very first time in my life, and it’s making me so ill that I don’t know what to do with myself. And I cannot shake the depression. I’m almost to the point of watching the clock like I’m on the job stocking shelves to the end of time, time standing still like that man you can picture in the great classics – his patience, all of his years of experience. They don’t hire men like that any more. They can’t find them. Anyway, my wife, she’ll be back before I know it, once I open my eyes.
little days waking up
in the middle of
the afternoon
I can’t tell you
how comforting
that is
they won’t last
forever
but you don’t
have to
remind me
it is actually
nagging me
at the back of
my mind
because I
have a
worrier’s way
about me
ask anyone
who really
knows me
the heat is up
and everything
out there
on the outside
is busy
during the day
with holiday
traffic they call it
holy traffic
if there
could be
such a thing
people running
other people over
a real holy Saturday
and Sunday Sale
down at the
department store
this guy gets hired
on for the length of it
it doesn’t last long
they turn him out
the second it’s over
or say
“actually, you can
leave early.”
“I will not forget
to go home,” he tells them,
“and write some
poems about you.”
it is no sweat
the young man
sits in his chair and
writes a holy list
a wish list
a hit list
a to do list
and crosses off
crosses off with his
eyes closed
she has this kind of
air about her that
says “what could
you possibly be writing?
how do you think of
things to write about?
what is there to write about?”
if you practice
every day
then soon enough
it comes naturally
especially around
this time of year, you know
when things get all
stressful and high strung
there is much . . .
Different levels of concentration when reading, I’ve noticed – I mean, about myself. Some days I’m really there with the lines on the page. Other days I have to take more time to concentrate, I have to go back over the same thing more than once. I take it in whole chunks at a time. With Another Country, tomorrow I’ll at least get to the 200 mark. After that I’ll give myself a few days to get to 300, and from there I’ll have only about 50 pages left. I have to pace myself. The pacing doesn’t always work – I sometimes have to let up a little – but it’s something I can always return to. There are strict days and not so strict days. It is good to admit that there’s both. I can’t always be some kind of machine.
In fact, I may want to sleep a fourteen or fifteen hour stretch. Ah, dreams…
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