THE SUNLIT UNKNOWN

Certain days, it
feels more real
than others.

Sudden understanding,
moments like a
wallet filled with
a finite number
of bills.

Curiosity asking:
“Just what will
I miss most?”

Young adults
everywhere wondering
what it takes: to
enjoy a job or to do
a job to enjoy life?

Intense but brief
relationships offer a
certain pattern–
patterns become the only
long-term investment.

Curiosity asking:
“Is there a moment
when you finally
feel adult?”

Turned off by the
idea of ‘waiting’
for damn near
anything.

Minds plugged into
computers, envious
of the coffeeshoppers
tapping feet to music,

Possibly reading,
researching, reflecting–
something personal
to gain.

Stretching ‘breaktime’
like a theraband.
Who’s watching?

Kiwi awnings at, I
admit, my favorite
coffeeshop.

Certain fondness,
a certain unknowing–
“What will I miss most?”

Never underestimate
the gravitational pull
of the place where
you gained financial
independence.

Also: where you
curated a fine group
of ‘adult’ friends.

Even when it feels
real, this hawk-shadow
of swooping change,
I can’t deny my
giddy disposition:

Us, hand in hand,
walking confidently
into the sunlit unknown.

 

Written on February 11, 2014…shortly after Brenton & I decided we would quit our jobs and relocate from Philadelphia to Seattle. We made the move on June 23, 2014.

 

 

BUT WHAT IS IT THAT I WANT?

Ever torn between
my age in numbers
and how I feel

that I should slow
down not measure
my minutes for their
industriousness.

We’re younger than
we’ve ever been
before and for
so much longer.

That my mother,
my father had to
commit to life
together houses
together dogs
cats children
jobs – well did
it make them
stronger I wonder?

We’re younger than
we’ve ever been
before and for
so much longer.

To commit to
anything seems
too limiting
and we’re the ones
who say no to sacrifice

because we eat, drink,
be merry like we
deserve any of it.

wha is it

Hammonassett Beach, CT

ONCE THOUGHT

I am humbled
by my path to nowhere

It’s not a hero’s journey
afterall,
as was once thought

In fact it’s rather un-
spectacular
milling through the
myriad
daily concerns

I didn’t choose it

It took mounds of
hush/hush/hush
in my mind

so that I could at
least pretend to care

If I had one of Phillip
Pullman’s dæmons
it would whisper to me:
you’ve always
been preoccupied

Now I do know
I can’t be
above scotch tape
or fax machines
or the usefulness of
paperclips

I see the clumsy
stacks of paper
wheeled in by the
Staples man

and ship out on arms
of many, day and day
and day

What kind of tree
are we sacrificing
today?

And so my path
is a path to nowhere
where I seek the
things that once made
me scoff:

pleasure
warmth
happiness
love

And it’s not a hero’s
journey, as was
once thought.