Sunday, December 6, 2015

J.K. Durick- Three Poems

Backing up the Files
They’re put away
For another day
Just the way
I want them to stay:
Saved, stored,
Bundled and batched
Arranged, arrayed,
Multiplied and matched,
Waiting for me,
For the other me,
The one who wonders
Where they be.

                 How Things Get Done
Efficiency can be foreign. Sometimes it seems
cumbersome, inefficient, and frankly, insufficient.
Method, likewise, becomes misdirected in this,
as if something random interposed between
intention and result.
Determination might work, but rarely does more
than draw attention away, confuses both participants
and spectators alike.
Of course, there’s always endeavor and endurance
the work ethic and free will, persistence and even
bravado and bravery, the ability to plan, the ability
to predict, the ability to persuade, to motivate,
to anticipate, to concentrate, and to participate.
If all else fails, there’s hesitation, the thoughtful
pause, well timed; prolonged long enough, serves
as a response, distances blame, sets things up,
looks the other way, regrettable, deniable, and
something someone else will  have to handle as
best they can, as best they might.

Perhaps the flu. Who knew? Who knows?
Of course, my nose, and those who get to hear
the cough, cough, cough of it, the fit of meds,
the unmade beds, the sneeze of it, the wheeze of it,
the unplanned plan of it all, and that call to work,
the cancel of it, the margins fold in on my cold,
the haze of days, the hills of pills, the oceans
of potions, my inner child wants his mom,
remembers her calm pleasance, her calming presence
at times like these, my inner old man will freeze
wheeze, sneeze, tease, ease, breeze, creeze…
Hey, the whole day has been this way.

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