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AND THE HANDS ON THE CLOCK SEEM TO TICK BACKWARDS
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RUBBING OUT A 3:00AM GIGGITY
The worst ones
are the days
when nothing happens
and motion stands
at a minimum
and the hands
on the clock
seem to tick backwards
as each single minute
crawls like a slug
from under a rock
searching for a new home
and time
seems to ooze patiently
like molasses
poured from a jar
and suddenly
the South seems fast
that’s when you know
it’s been a long day
and 10 minutes
mysteriously transform
into 5 minutes
and 20 minutes
contemptuously fade
into 10 minutes
and each time
you see the clock
you just shake your head
with disgust
and you just
want to scream
it really has been
an ungodly day
and every ache
you ever had
in your life
begins to hurt
you know it’s been
a fucking long day
but there’s nothing
you can do about it
Days like that
seem harmless on the surface
but they really do suck
3-24-98
Like yourself and everyone
Like yourself and everyone else, I've experienced days like this before. It's been so long, though, since I had a day not go racing along that I almost miss the far more sluggish hand of time. Of course, what I know I'm really longing for is something in the middle, because as you so perfectly expressed, "Days like that / seem harmless on the surface / but they really do suck."
You perfectly build the tension and distress, like a person slowly coming to realize that they are sinking into quick sand. Very much a personal favorite of yours, George.
Been there and experienced
Been there and experienced that, and you describe it very, very well. I also want to applaud your metaphors and similes: they are so strikingly original, yet so easily comprehend, that I was struck by how precisely accurate they were in describing how the experience feels. I actually paused over several of the lines because they are so well constructed and so powerful. I think this poem is, and will continue to be, one of the main centerpieces of your entire collection.
Starward
always striving to find
always striving to find poetry in those mundane, painfully slow moments. .thanks for reading
And you do succeed in finding
And you do succeed in finding that Poetry in those moments. One of the great learning experiences of my life was figuring out, while still in middle school, that dismal or stormy days were also as poetic as sunny, summery days---just in a different key, so to speak, and in a different form. And, in that same way, your poems about the mundane moments demonstrate exactly that.
Starward