Damian Garside

THAT SLAVOJ

today

I am too
still

to attempt
a poem

get entangled
in inner workings

but there
they go again

clamoring
for a line, a word,
a beggar’s feast
at least
something

knowing how
soft-hearted, generous
I am

even as I sink
beneath the surface
of every ocean
of self-
deprecation

being inclined
towards this stupid
pretence
of an art

can’t seem to
shake off
all those demons and
hobgoblins
putting
images in
my head
words
into my mouth
telling me
to write this
write that

so hearing about
sage smudging
figured I would just
smudge
those unruly suckers out

turns out
just to evict one of
those pests engaged in
this constant invasion

would need more smoke than
if Vesuvius, Krakato
Etna, and St Helena
should happen
to
simultaneously
erupt

do not
mind me

afford me
a second look

am out in a field
green grass, electromagnetic,
photoelectric
contemplating things

cultivating
good mu shin

things dissolving even
as they blossom profusely

and I
let go

cup empty
cup full

no
half measures
.
so ready
to be taken to find
myself

quietly filled