Brian’sPoems

So Hungry for This Day

She peers in to tell me,
it’s hot in here,
then leaves the door open,
perhaps unaware
a wide open door
lets in the rowdy day.

I’m not ready to start my day,
at least not the way I’m expected,
with a single-minded productivity,
and the almighty dollar in mind.

There’s too much soup in my head.
It needs to simmer an hour longer,
while I relax my heart muscle,
so I can actually love this world.

I know I can love this day
much more than I love an idea,
about any one day,
which I absorbed from a book,
or a television show,
or some advertisement still smoldering,
in the deep abyss of my psyche.

For many years I’ve lived
in either the knowing or not knowing,
where I gradually learned each of itself
offered only the illusion of comfort,
and not the necessary tension
to hold me in space.

My gaze returns to the open door,
the air beyond is still a bit cooler,
yet I am now startled to find
the loudest voice calling me forth
is my stomach,
so hungry for this day.