my feet mark the passage of time
i leave off where i started
the hospital
fingering my toes
in time i am healthy
robust waiting
for the light
humming waiting
bells toll
in slow solid measures
the bolt that connects my arm whispers
and the way i sweat
in bursts and starts
in increments
i talk in measures
if and when
plan in yardsticks
less than three feet long
i will go to the wedding
the graduation is a wait and see
see and wait
for the light at sixth and somewhere
ten years past the flirting muslims
if i wait my prince will come
it's a promise
the way stars twinkle
the way light bursts against the back of your lids
when pain beats your ass with short stabs
lower pelvic pain
you tell the doctor who has waited all day
for his favorite patient
with my meditation walkman
well, peaceful and happy
i am still hopeful waiting
on the corner of sixth and something
i am breathing deep through my mouth
exhaling through wide nostrils
i am tired of waiting
the passage the ritual the long ride sitting
'cross from someone who never cries
weary of listening to my breathing
when i don't know what to listen for
when am i massaging the feet of death itself
searching with confident fingers for the corollary
between the sole and the soul's song
singing at the bedside of another brother
who will sing for me
who sings for me now
where is that man the muslims promised
the messiah of love
the self-healed herald of our age
always waiting
told bert that and he
remembered recalled it aloud
as i waited for
a train — a bus — a man
he said " i know how you hate to wait "
and smiled at me
breathing measuring sweating
sniffing at the feet of death
my hands anointed by their own work
my prayers and poems a tangled mass
of flashing lights and signals
waiting for themselves to unlock the
lazarus the job the mary virgin mystery
why me they cried and waited
watching my children grow
my waistline shrink
in measures and increments
research on mice and monkeys
lipstick stains a thousand paper cups
the amusement park opens then closes
the season ended
the kids overdressed for school
wait for the crossing guard in her reflector vest
she signals to them and they cross
at sixth and somehow
time stands still for them
i wait for it to resume
the hairs on my neck
the clearing of my throat
helps me to measure
the time that belongs to me
time left over
minutes left out of the scheme
of waiting patient
if i wait here patient it will happen
i will die
crashing noiselessly into my own consciousness
pillows of waiting of sickness of health
featherbed of lingering near the edges
waiting for my change to come
cushions of sorrow and regret
catch my nose dive my dead weight
plummet by here in a minute
you'll see soar past your dead weight fall
pouring my living into a glass of bubbles
their iridescence is reflective
but i can't get caught in the mirror on the way
the way waiting has no end
the way waiting makes you wait
listening makes you listen
and your ideas don't solve the puzzle
your ideas are not in this
it's you and me who hates to wait
it's me and you waiting for this weight i lost
no one understood that
his peeling his bound feet his cranky whining
were mine his limp rag suffering tubes and tracheotomies
boiler plate passages indexed in our
mutual living
burning oxygen together was a pleasure
heaving and spewing stories to pass the time
the time the time the clock
spring forward fall back
lose an hour or what
gain a day by waiting quiet
lose a week by running scared
filling the book with precious appointments
talking in measured tones
lean against the buzzer
lean against the buzzer
and wait for the time to come
i leave off where i started
the hospital
fingering my toes
in time i am healthy
robust waiting
for the light
humming waiting
bells toll
in slow solid measures
the bolt that connects my arm whispers
and the way i sweat
in bursts and starts
in increments
i talk in measures
if and when
plan in yardsticks
less than three feet long
i will go to the wedding
the graduation is a wait and see
see and wait
for the light at sixth and somewhere
ten years past the flirting muslims
if i wait my prince will come
it's a promise
the way stars twinkle
the way light bursts against the back of your lids
when pain beats your ass with short stabs
lower pelvic pain
you tell the doctor who has waited all day
for his favorite patient
with my meditation walkman
well, peaceful and happy
i am still hopeful waiting
on the corner of sixth and something
i am breathing deep through my mouth
exhaling through wide nostrils
i am tired of waiting
the passage the ritual the long ride sitting
'cross from someone who never cries
weary of listening to my breathing
when i don't know what to listen for
when am i massaging the feet of death itself
searching with confident fingers for the corollary
between the sole and the soul's song
singing at the bedside of another brother
who will sing for me
who sings for me now
where is that man the muslims promised
the messiah of love
the self-healed herald of our age
always waiting
told bert that and he
remembered recalled it aloud
as i waited for
a train — a bus — a man
he said " i know how you hate to wait "
and smiled at me
breathing measuring sweating
sniffing at the feet of death
my hands anointed by their own work
my prayers and poems a tangled mass
of flashing lights and signals
waiting for themselves to unlock the
lazarus the job the mary virgin mystery
why me they cried and waited
watching my children grow
my waistline shrink
in measures and increments
research on mice and monkeys
lipstick stains a thousand paper cups
the amusement park opens then closes
the season ended
the kids overdressed for school
wait for the crossing guard in her reflector vest
she signals to them and they cross
at sixth and somehow
time stands still for them
i wait for it to resume
the hairs on my neck
the clearing of my throat
helps me to measure
the time that belongs to me
time left over
minutes left out of the scheme
of waiting patient
if i wait here patient it will happen
i will die
crashing noiselessly into my own consciousness
pillows of waiting of sickness of health
featherbed of lingering near the edges
waiting for my change to come
cushions of sorrow and regret
catch my nose dive my dead weight
plummet by here in a minute
you'll see soar past your dead weight fall
pouring my living into a glass of bubbles
their iridescence is reflective
but i can't get caught in the mirror on the way
the way waiting has no end
the way waiting makes you wait
listening makes you listen
and your ideas don't solve the puzzle
your ideas are not in this
it's you and me who hates to wait
it's me and you waiting for this weight i lost
no one understood that
his peeling his bound feet his cranky whining
were mine his limp rag suffering tubes and tracheotomies
boiler plate passages indexed in our
mutual living
burning oxygen together was a pleasure
heaving and spewing stories to pass the time
the time the time the clock
spring forward fall back
lose an hour or what
gain a day by waiting quiet
lose a week by running scared
filling the book with precious appointments
talking in measured tones
lean against the buzzer
lean against the buzzer
and wait for the time to come