Smelting

How many days have you spent in silence?

The prison days absent conviction or wrong-doing, crime

Or non-crime, but time wandering in an indefinite expanse

Wrapped up in the mail delivery route zip codes marking domain

Knowing no one is even around let alone talk to there

 

I imagine there are gentlemen and ladies who count their sum in parcels

The weight that can fit about a postal scale, franking machine and

Inserted in a box full of letters, then there are others who can fathom such physics

The tonnage would overwhelm ocean liners of cargo containers ferrying the Earth’s contraband 

The dynamics are perverse like smelted melted bubbling to be formed

And setting before my eyes daily as an untouchable pliability hardening

Into that which I will become at my fourth decade and beyond looking back and

Gone into a retrospective currency un-spendable like Francs or Deutsche Marks  

All windows of exchange are taken in the oblivion of days expecting the nothingness

The no reason to motion except to see hoop after slalom course resigned for the period

Not forever, but like a man in prison, but not in prison, not entirely self- made

Nor sentenced by court, more so aware, deeply cognizant of the parameters of escape 

Are those of a contemplative man asserting a place for the bird held aloft to find bedding

On the ground to avoid the greater calamities of engine parts

Flinging themselves at nearby highways like industrial flotsam disguised as mental illness

The security of bank accounts and mortgages links to food supplies and rations

For the trek across the great wasteland that is not ending in departure, but continuing  

Closer to the manifestation of liberation of non-imprisonment,

Of recognition of the beautiful daily forgetfulness of past and present

Passing each other on the street car without recognition, grin, frown or wave

Simply dancing in the haze of focus on what is pacing now, content  

The older files are not buried as avoidance but stored with a distance of impertinence

Other than the forwarding equity of strength in what fills a man to esteem and fortitude

The trials of men and hardened metal like prison bars knowing in time

Knowing that which has solidified will liquefy again in the physics of the mind  

Given time patience and usurping the visual with the contemplated

Oh Viktor Frankyl what a man you must have been;

How I wish someone understand a damn thing I try to say;

“My shadow’s only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart’s the only thing that’s beating”