just bones again

old again,
not young.
It's youth that surprises,
youth that comes and goes,
youth that makes you anticipate its leaving.
But age is constant,
it's always there beneath young feelings.
If you are feeling young,
don't worry
you'll get over it.
You'll feel your age again,
you'll be in pain again,
you'll ache again, you'll cry again,
you'll be alone again.
I don't worry about the next time I feel young and free--
that's the doggy-treat I might get if I'm a good boy--
I worry about finishing the treat.
I worry about feeling hungry again,
feeling my situation again,
feeling my nothingness again,
feeling the truth again.

Happiness is the meat,
sadness--the bone.
and you can gnaw on that forever.

falling

I'm falling out of context
I'm falling out of line
I'm moving into reflex,
sporadic all the time

At first I had the memories
At first they drove me on
At first they gave me Sundays,
made right the things gone wrong

But summer turned to autumn
And winter followed fall
The distant sun was handsome,
but silent, cold, and small

Then lifeless all the pictures
Then lifeless friendly words
Then lifeless all the fixtures,
the constant things, the cures

For nothing saved me from this
And nothing held it back
No memory could have barred this,
the emptiness, the black

If you can't feel the sunrise
If you can't feel the sea
If you can't feel your friends' cries,
not even ones from me

Then sit still for a moment
Read Galway’s poem, Wait
Feel swept inside the current
of hope that wills your fate

At the Bus Stop

At the bus stop
I hate the bus I missed
And curse the one not come,
But welcome the wait
And in it the time to feel.