this feeling

a sense of foreboding
in the air maybe this
morning. not quite
mourning. not quiet
tears pouring.
poring over
written
poems
from
many
nights
ago - a
new day
begins a-
gain on time -
the sunshine in
here reflects off
the top of the clouds;
flying up here, seeing
over there, feeling
so clear and muddled
at the very same time.

this feeling is hard to
pinpoint and as a poet
that scares me - makes
me feel helpless.

and i imagine
what it would
be like to feel
the emotions of
the whole world
at once in only
one person's mind
and how full they
would feel and if
they would fall a
little bit before
gliding to a safe
landing.

thoughts landing
one by one on
runways in my
mind and time
is playing
tricks on
me and my
aladdin-like
air mattress
ride to the
ceiling - oh
my oh my this
feeling, this
poetic feeling
of something
about to break
burst bust - and
i'm trying to trust
my own sense of place
and time and then it's
so kind and the words and
thoughts merge into one line
of consciousness spread out from
here to the moon, looping and back
down to the earth again - roping the
moon and hoping the stars don't
notice and get jealous and it's
a big lifeless rock but here i
have it lassoed (lasso'd?) and
i don't know how to translate
this feeling
to words so
the world
can see too

back to these people
outside the window
though (and with
the image of the
window i'm taken
back to child-
hood in the
neighborhood
looking through
the screened in
window at the world
and wondering if i would
ever fit in, ever be
part of the scene
i saw through
the tiny holes
of metal - meshed
together in strings,
capturing me. and the
glass smudged...) back
to these people (now)
outside, though, and
how they go to and fro
and seem to know which
direction is north and
where they should turn
and when they should
hold hands and when
they should laugh
and then the
constant
stream of
cars on IN 37
distracts me and
i wonder about all
of them and where they
are and where they're
going (and again
thoughts of the
past, me and cars,
comes through for
the briefest of
moments) and
beastie boys
are in the mix
and that song and
that song and this
song that's in my heart -
this feeling i fight to tame
to the page (or, the screen,
this cathode ray - or LCD
really - representation
of paper i see before
me) and the sounds
merge and the air
conditioning is
conditional on
whether or not
so much money
is put into
the hands
and the
plan
and
and and
this feeling
oh this feeling -
to be able to explain
it in 12 simple words
would do wonders for
the world, but there's
no way to relate this -
this feeling - in so
few words, you know?

the feeling,
this feeling
i'm feeling,
slips back
into the back
of my mind where
i can't see it as
clearly (blurry) as
i have for the last few
minutes. and moments continue
to add up and time goes on
and on and on.

stop.