Adjacent Unrealities

In childhood, I stumbled on
Adjacent unrealities
Available on books and screens,
And so began dualities
Of what was really lived, and what
Was merely felt or thought,
But more of these
I almost always sought.

This is part of our growth.
It’s hard to know which to prefer —
Though some of these were bought
And others ambient and free,
I could not see that some of them
Were not that good for me, because
Some of them were.

Slow-forward fifty years and now
That battle has been won:
In the age of overdoing,
Everything is overdone.
The heart’s great appetite for play
Is stretched beyond its moorings,
And everything’s acceptable
As long as it’s not boring.

When I must choose far more
Than my capacity for choosing,
I find it’s to my detriment.
It’s my mind I’m abusing —

It is unhealthy living in
Adjacent unreality:
For real life is the road, and
Fantasy’s

The scenery

Lost Dimension

The world has lost dimension:
Nothing, nowhere seems that far away
When every road we find’s
Already mapped —

The frontier’s gone. No wonder
All and everything, in everyday
Seems just as jaded, though
It be untapped —

And maybe it’s this age,
Or maybe my age – I don’t know.
But I’d go somewhere new,
If there was such a place to go —

The world has lost dimension,
All we’re left with is the way we feel —
But even that seems tired
And unreal —

Just points who’ve
Lost dimension

All

Unreal

Quiet Interlude

Day has fallen
To her knees,
The quietude 
Is deafening,
And love’s a tune
That other people hear —

She muses on
Both light and hope,
The way they each
Are lessening,
And how it is that dreams give way
To fear —

But lightly, o’er across the lake,
An evening bird is singing,
One probably no one but her
Discerns

And isn’t this the way of things,
To wander in the shadows
As each of us into the light

Takes turns

The Electric Runabout

Learn how new
The old new things seemed,
And understand the veil
That hides us from ourselves

We’re all dropped into
The middle of stories,
We all have roles
With inconsistent characters

When the lights are flashing
And the music’s pumping,
We move because
That’s all life is —

Sometimes.

Did you once shake
The hands of time?
Have you betrothed
To many things?

You feel the chlorine
In your eyes,
That remnant there
That always stings

And you have proved
A feckless friend
Who drinks too much
And laughs too loud,

Enamored with
Your vanity,
You walk the high way
Of the proud,

But parametric
Overtones
Have strengthened your
Endeavor

To draw an audience
Of one.
How decorous,
How clever.

You reach
Your shoulder-circling arm
Around to your next
Would be —

And all of it
Is just so you,
While none is
As it should be.

So learn how new
The old things seemed
When they were first
Seen newly,

And just how empty
All can be
When you cannot live

Truly

Prognostication

When you think you know the future,
Many strange things will you do;
When we’re right, we don’t think “lucky” —
That’s the human point of view.

Public lives are filled with hubris,
Most are not accountable,
For the world is asymmetric:
This seems insurmountable.

What was genius now is folly,
What was right’s been proven wrong —
Yet we think that we’re so different,
Like we knew it all along.

Those who can’t control their lives say
How the country should be run;
Promising a new tomorrow,
But when all is said, and done,

Billions upon billions of our
Choices make us what we are:
Termites on a tiny planet,
Circling a fading star.

Life: it is a vast unfolding.
Fate does not care how we feel —
Make the future that’s today, then:
It’s the only one

That’s real