Every day

I pick up my

attitude

–a discarded crumple on the floor–

duct taping away the dust bunnies of depression

from its crinkles,

using a really old toothbrush

to scrub

at the pain stains that leaked

into its folds

no matter how hard I cap those pointed blues the night before

. . .

pinning the holes of loss

with old-fashioned safety pins

\\\

and shaking out the whole,

I take stock.

I concentrate on the brighter colors

that defy repeated wear

–and complement both dawn & dusk–

and rise,

(then)

and dress,

(now)

and decide

(also)

that the small spots at worn cuff

are admirable,

–and lend to the pattern

at the heart of my outlook–

that there are yet beautiful buttons

there, too,

and the fringe at hem

is almost exotic

–tres Par’ee–

and squaring shoulders beneath

unpadded

point of view

I step out

–noticing just how many of us

are wearing the same

outfit.

weird’s a word

of connotation,

an abstract term

that needs translation,

its complex construct

denotation,

the subject of

today’s narration.

it’s kinky, sure,

and kooky, too,

a frizzy, dizzy

loosened screw,

an awesome, haunting

world view,

eschewing ghost,

but still ta’boo.

mysterious–

its meanings mount,

fantastic, yes,

and flung far out,

so magical,

it’s hard to count!

To annotate, and

much less tout.

exceptional

–as weird can be–

expressing

extra’

ord’nary,

its rubric trick

–un∙usu∙ally–

uncarves stone

–and block-

–and tree.

So if you find

you fit description,

of this uncommon

definition,

rejoice your voice

defies prediction,

and shout about

your rare

condition.

I dismount

my high horse,

(a stalled one)

stable

–eyes–

show pony,

(my little kiss & tell)

–unpin

tale from

ass

(and pen it anew)

–learning how to

bear the load.

how many ways

can you throw in the towel?

~wave a white flag~

/ call the ball foul /

ca$h in your chip$

(call it a day)

how many ways are out

there to say:

↑ hey, uncle ↓

(gone  AWOL)

< now left in the lurch >

* for giving up ship *

–& calling off search–

(to cop out & opt out)

† of state, law, & church? †

~to shy from~

/ resign from /

¡ t0 f0rfeit !

2 cede…

how many ways

do you really need?

* since powder *

once taken

~can come after wash~

< your hands >

of the lot

(of it)

with terry-cloth tossed.

I kicked off

–the ball?

–the New Year?

–the constraints of the masses?

(my shoes)

just for

–coal walking?

–footsie?

–trying on new kicks?

(a minute)

growing more

–callused?

–callous?

–carefree?

(anxious)

in this barefoot state which is oxymoronic, dontcha think but the shards of glass

–heel?

–eyeball?

–champagne flutes?

(house)

quite surrounded me, interspersed with sizable

–potholes?

–dustbunnies?

–insurance premiums?

(stones)

which made for rough going, yet seemed appropriate, since the shoes I eschewed were

–flip flops?

–waffle stompers?

–made for walking?

(Mary Janes)

and though I’ve looked for them

–high and low?

–lately?

–on sale?

(everywhere)

one’s gone missing, and wouldn’t you know it was

–the left one?

–my own fault?

–at an amputee convention?

(the Merry one)

that I can no longer find.

trust your gut

that

> little voice <

any time you make

a choice,

since hairs

will only stand on nape,

when the feedback

is innate.

your sense that’s sixth

is intuition,

comprising more

than inner frisson,

composed of sheets of

fine perceptions,

gathered from

untold impression…

Body language?

Sure that’s one

–and moues on mug

can start that thrum–

add history

of other such

and soon

you’ll have

a flutter-gut.

Yes, Sig Man Freud

conjectured apt:

“coincidence

is utter crap”

–all accidents

a misconception–

while ESP

is true collection…

of hundreds

maybe thousand

things,

assembled from

the outside in.