Friends, friendish, unfriended, lend me your ears,
and your hearts, and your mouths and hands and gut,
just a moment root your feet ankle-deep in earth.
Remember to envision your mother’s birth,
the thousand thousand sunrises between you
and Mark Antony’s grandmothers,
the way you’d like to feel tomorrow and all the others,
the way you’ll remember to your children the view:
“Beautiful!” but what else?
the eyes you shone upon the outness about yourself
ten years ago before you put appreciation on the shelf,
aside the books you haven’t read
and the pair of eyes gone from your head,
aside the pictures of the dead and those you’ll never meet,
aside the keepsake jar of earth from right. beneath. your toes.
Remember to be mindful members of the present,
but don’t stress the unspent days gone by,
the slept-in Sunday AM phase is fine,
but a morning mourning is a missed morning more.
Remember to return to a place that’s yours
to let self-consciousness go comatose.
Allow the day in at the door,
be a gracious host.
Insist it have a drink, and a slice of cake.
Will you go through the day or let the day through you?
Carpe diem! and lubricate!
Remember to make each day last
in storyworthy glory unboring.
Don’t let yourself forget but don’t dwell in the past,
remember don’t live fast, die old,
old and on percocet just to keep walking,
working, if you’re self-employed
you don’t get any benefits,
if you’re part-time you’re irrelevant,
so get a good job or hope
your inheritance is generous,
but don’t be greedy,
be the epitome of elegance.
I know it’s tough, but–
Remember the speeches of all your advisors,
especially me, I’ll preach that I’m wiser
than you (damned if I don’t make
every line about my life).
You wish that you knew if these are lies or
the truth, but you keep on listening
as I sing you my blues.
Do as I do as you do not yet know
how to see the mind through the maze
I paint between lines,
you listen unfazed ‘cause you see with your eyes,
you sit there glazed over, just analyze
the hate this naysayer conveys.
“Beautiful!” what else?
Lend me your criticisms,
I’ll hand ‘em back, I won’t listen,
I’m too attached to me.
I’m written in soliloquies of inhibitions,
Revelations, penance for bad metaphysical directions,
I’ve written a hundred intangible confessions,
I fall every time to metapoetic vindications,
because I’m a hypocrite, don’t listen
don’t listen to me, no,
this is about you!
How you always forget,
how you always get bored,
heed these words a bit more,
this is how you toss out advice
like you’re pimping a whore,
this is how you reach for a vice
though you’d never before,
this is how you hold
upright on the floor.
Lend me your vision,
my eyes can’t find me.
Lend me your feet,
there’s no ground beneath mine.
Remind me it’s hard to find the right words–
as usual, what else?