Cloudy Beard of The Sky

He never strayed from the day, until it set in stone, then he varied between racing toward his fridge, drowsily searching for Bacardi, or soaring on a table-top, barbaric arms unrolled atop its wooden chest.

On days off, he wandered thru hallways, and rocked his mind to spill words, interrogated it, pushing it backward, staring it sharply with shades of cool. The mind was innocent, more innocent than his body, and hardly ever knew what to say. Fortunately for the mind, his body was sympathetic and bipolar, so it would break out an illusion from its prison-cell, and assist its escape toward the burning, orange sun. But then it would have to drag it downward, and cradle its head in his hands, and fasten it onto shadowed corners.

With disappointments clutched in depths that shared semblance to the Mariana Trench, he would rise from his chair, gawk at plans that he still had time to fulfill, shuffled thru books, and sparked cigarettes, then extinguished them in vigorous movements of burnish.

The newspaper speaks easy about reviews, and funnies, and actual news. No good movies projecting about, everything’s been said and done before. It’s almost an hour. He’s scared of heating in his blues, and he’s lost at winning problems a little too often. So, he sits somewhere in the vicinity of a park bench, and cracks a can of Green-apple juice, eyes gleaming with upset specks of it, and reads another page of a story, and he fades into wild blue.

Published by

Watt

It's all a matter of rust and shine, to serve a distinction between to have and to have not.

54 thoughts on “Cloudy Beard of The Sky”

  1. This gives me an ‘after work’ or day off kind of feeling, the hands that mindlessly reach for a drink, and the mind that reaches for everything and nothing, reflective in it’s disposition.

    “With disappointments clutched in depths that shared semblance to the Mariana Trench,”

    … some days are like that. Some weeks, and some years, too.

    Love the photo as well, it’s perfect for the poem.

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      2. Isn’t it better with someone though? Aren’t we all ravelling the treasures of people, to find one to share our one time of nothing with, and squandering minutes and seconds, without them going to waste.

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      3. I guess that is true, sharing these days with someone is amazing. But sometimes I also have a craving for aloneness, the quiet and simplicity of that. Probably because of my job where I have a pretty intense interface with people all day. But ultimately, if I was alone all the time I would just be lonely. It’s all relative.

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  5. It’s interesting to see how life can be so much more complicated and intense for some than for others. Always fighting/questioning themselves, feeling as if their own thoughts are imprisoned, as if everything is important and meaningful. All the words, disappointment, illusions, scared, barbaric, interrogated and so many more. Wonderful description of someone caught up in his own little nightmare.

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    1. Thank you.
      Time is difficult for some, especially of you think more about it. But I think that this makes everyone’s life their own, it makes it about them. And I think we both know that true happiness is not an achievable goal, so I think I should set sail to some island, and try to make sense of it. Alone. But alone in different shades and hues.

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      5. Oh that’s a good question…hmmm…the Devil would certainly make for interesting dialogue, no? We’ve known each other for many years 😉

        I’m right now sitting outside—watching a huge dragonfly swoop around catching freshly hatched flying bugs. What an amazing pilot! And two ravens just landed in a tree…

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  12. Okay, why do you use such unpoetic words like Bacardi but it doesn’t sound so bland. It’s like a feather on a Leander blanket, flaring in a scientific beauty, because it’s married to this imperfect world.

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  13. How on earth did I miss this one before!?! It is just wonderful. That first paragraph! Brilliant, every single word. (Including and especially Bacardi, I think Scott is exactly right, you’re able to use words like Bacardi without them sounding bland at all, instead “It’s like a feather on a Leander blanket, flaring in a scientific beauty, because it’s married to this imperfect world.”) And the rest rolling out perfectly from there, like those arms outward from that chest.

    Also I looooooovvvvvveeeeee reading the comments here. You have such lovely warmth with your blogging friends, and the conversations are so infused with mutual caring and appreciation. It’s just a pleasure to be here and witness it all. Thanks, Watt, for making this space and time.

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  15. Wow I love this. I haven’t been reading much, having to save my words for work. Today my brain needed a break. I wish you could have seen what I saw when I read backwards each post. I felt a thread through out, a man questioning so much and then answering himself in his heart, we are but spectators to this beauty you share Watt. Thank you for being here! Have a blessed and awesome day! I must go spill more words…Love that line!

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