Ears

Had I patience coming out my ears
I wouldn't have my patience anymore
It would have flowed out over months and years
(Ignoring that it's just a metaphor)
And left me empty, impatient, and weary
Of always waiting while it drained away;
Full of annoyance, and a little leery
Of anyone who came to ask me "May
I have a moment of your time" for then
I would be certain that no time was left
For me to dawdle in. I'd tell them "When
You give as much again to me, bereft
Of time," and blow them off. So I am glad
A little patience's all I've ever had.

Altered Status

Probably acceptable, I am
I would have it any other way
But at some points my senses seem to ram
Against the chance that I may be someday
Either more or less - and such a change
Though normal and amenable to most
As people vary through the normal range
Frightens me as if I'd seen a ghost.
I'd like to think I know myself and my
Position on the scale of being liked
To change is frightening - would it bely
The present status if my liking spiked
Or dropped? Of course not. But my heart says yes
And thereupon rise fears I now confess.

Heats

Why is heat
Hard to tell?
Seasoned meat
Black of hell
Spicy curry
All outdoors
Those who hurry
On their tours
Pavement baked
Off A/C
Thirst unslaked
All will be
Seeming hot
Are they not?

Put

I may never go outside
I might never leave this spot
But do not think that I must hide
For I must tell you that I'm not.
It's simply that I'd rather be
In here, where everything is cool
Where all the world is nice to me
And I though not alone can rule
The elements and rather than
Allowing them to work my fate
Exceed the fondest dream of man
And force them down to my dictate.
So if I do not leave here, know
I chose that I would never go.

Worth While

I find more value in the quiet days
When I can be where I would wish to be
Than in the clanging unconformity
Of massive noisy change. I do not blaze
New trails for men to stumble through and gaze
In Darien wonder on discovery
But rather let my world flow into me
Am one with it, and glory in the ways
I can find joy at home, where I desire.
My happiness is mine, and known, and true
The charcoal, not the petroleum fire
That may catch slowly, but once caught will burn
Deeper and hotter than gas fires do
And need not find new fuel before its turn.

ACB

Air conditioning can only work
In a closed system - buses do not count
Unless, of course, the driver is a jerk
And doesn't stop on anyone's account.
But if the bus, as usual, rolls on
Stopping each block or so to gape its doors,
Heat passing in as passengers are gone
There are no earthly scientific lores
Can make it cool. I must perforce admit
A metal box so full of sweaty limbs
Would be a sauna without A/C's bit
Of help, but I profess that small help dims
Beside the outer heat it cannot stop
A/C on buses just feels like a flop.

Reburn

Let others glory in return
For I shall venture forth again
And while I linger here, I burn.
Yet I'll come back once more and then
Perhaps the city will be cool
And I will not begin to rue
The somehow automatic rule
That makes me turn as if on cue
And come back to my residence.
For though the city is so hot
(I have abundant evidence)
I still profess I hate it not
And will, when it is cool, remain
But now I hope that it will rain.

Wishes

I have desires that I keep inside
And others that I wear upon my sleeve.
You hear them all, but from the rest I hide
A little part of me, lest they believe
Too easily they know how I will act
Based solely on my urges. I am more
Than base or fine desires, and that fact
Is vital to me: letting my soul soar
High as it may, I fly beyond the flesh,
But do not leave it evermore behind:
That would be silly. I am not a kind
Of robot, or automaton, but mesh
My soul and body in a single form
And my desires help to keep me warm.

Patiently

Waiting is impossible to do
Faster than time passes, but that truth
Is not convenient, so I often stew
Wishing my waiting gone, and fear my youth
Is wasted in the wait. Of course, we all
Must wait at times, and if we do it well
We do not waste it. We may fear a stall,
But cannot let it come, for if we fell
Where could we safely land? Madness below
Makes falling dangerous, and so we must
Use the time we wait to think, and grow,
And not to fret. So we must learn to trust
In time, and know that waiting will, in time
Let the good we seek come forth and climb.

Webs

Some parts of what I am (and what I was)
Are bound up in some souls that are not mine.
But that's OK, since nobody who does
Anything can ever hold the line
And keep everyone out - nor should they so.
A soul unknitted to its kin and kith
Is nothing, and exposed to open woe,
While one conjoined and coextensive with
The souls of others, fortified in kind
Is strong and supple, bending against storms
Yet holding strong within its own true mind
Against disaster in its many forms.
The soul is strong that's well-connected out
And that untouched is wracked with fear and doubt.