On Mom
If I come and visit
Will you know my face
Will you talk to me
Like your son
Or lace your words with hate
Will your texts ever change
From anger and demands
Will you stand and hug me
As you kiss my head
Can we sit and laugh
Remembering what we ate
Playing games of Tripoli
Hoping for a good hand
Or will you stare
Not speaking
Leaving me
In silence
For Donald
I live a dull life
Behind the blinds
Peering out to see –
Is anyone trying
to get inside?
Watching all those neighbors
Coming and go
Wondering if the police
Are ever gonna show.
The crimes they’re committing
In my mind
Are the terrible most worse crimes
Of all time.
I need a big stick
To beat them all down.
Until I do, they’ll treat me
like some big orange clown.
Ambush
The lens that I roll and find
In the dumping ground
Of my mind
Moving from cat
To food
Life and Mom
Conversations
Time
I search for a point
Feet on bridge
As Neurons
Sing
Telling me often
Let it be
Jamming with tunes
Coming up and in
I circle
Slipping on words
And sounds
Picking apart
Pieces of lint
To Continue
A Suite of Thoughts
“Shiny”
Pennies and nickels
Money we hold
Kept in jars
Doesn’t fold
Saved for
Rainy days
Other times
Dust collecting
As we add dimes
Quarters are coveted
Wash and wax
Till someone else
Counts the cash
“Going By”
Shadows dance
On mind walls
Coming alive
Hearing old songs
Whispering
Remember
When you see a smile
Ordering
Forget
When you freeze
For a while
Always there
Awakened
And dead
The people
You’ve met
The person
You’ve been
“Orientation”
Just like that
There I am
Slipping along
A spectrum
I don’t understand
Looking for footing
As I
Slide along
Grasping for pieces
Hoping to right
Wrongs
Smiling
Like everything’s ‘okay’
Looking for spaces
In places
Where I sit
Struggling
With something
To say
“Dwelling”
It’s just a moment
To explore the day
Lost in thought
Feeling old
Maybe gray
Hunting for a mood
That’s muddied
And sullen
Hoping answers
Might come
From sources
Hidden
I’ll sit a while
In this well of mine
Doing my business
Thinking
About time
“Reconsidering”
Framing comes
With a frozen
Snap
I blink again
Wondering
Where I’m at
How much time
Has passed me by
As I sit
Reflecting
Wondering why
Maybe it’s time to stand
And stretch
Get on with life
And off the bench
Still
The explosion landed
In silence
Revealing exactly where he was wrong
And right
In one burst of time
Moment
Thought
Leaving him to sit with
details
Marker
The cracks show –
Spreading
He missed them
At first
Clocking them
Only after
Others
Commented.
He finds
Life emptying out
Contemplating
His time chasing
Time
Until time ran
Out of
Sight
Leaving him
With
All the time
Needed.
Giving him a
Smile –
Clues were
Forever
There
An unfelt
Hand
Pushing.
At the Moment
Middle age
Young age
Old age
A childhood time
Post modernism
Pre-industrial
Eras we define
Space age
Information age
Net age
Here we come
Knowledge at our fingertips
Truth is on the run
Thinking
Wishing
Wondering what will be
How will history
Change this age
Of truth
Of change
Of greed?
Sitting on the cusp
Of something
Trying to make sense
How long can this go on
With so many
On the fence?
If you ask me what it means
Uncertainty arises
I think I know what I see
I’m not sure
I like it
Michael Seidel, writer 