From the Waiting Room


I’m convinced that

if I got to see purgatory,

it would have those

dim old fluorescent lights

like in the dentist’s office.

Coffee tables

adorned with Styrofoam cups

and nondescript vases

full of plastic flowers.

I will fall apart before they do.

And even with all of those

ancient magazines

to read,

I wonder if I’d find the time.

My crossed legs,

already well acquainted

with pins and needles,

would dance in place.

Caught in the vacuum

of stasis.

In this case,

I’m just fine with the cold comfort

of “could be worse.”

At a crossroads

between appointments,

waiting for my turn.


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Feedback Loops


It happened again.

When you can’t undo

you can retrace your steps.

“Walk me through it,”

you hear from right behind you,

it was your own tail insisting.

But your directions

fall on deaf ears –

your great fear

is that you’ve now

lost your place.

But it’s right

under your nose,

tantalizingly close —

I know that feeling well.

“What are you not getting?”

It’s always a game of catch-up

or keep away.

Maybe you can tell,

I don’t have all the answers,

I thought I’d been

making waves,

but all I’ve done is dig ruts

and kick-up dust.

Let’s try again.


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Hastiness will not reward you,

consider me

a long-term


It’s out of your hands.

Watch for the clues —

I can attest,

slowly but surely

a transformation will take place

under your nose.

Time molds the novice

into the master,

the bud into the rose —

we have it in spades,

yet rarely do we spare it

and often we wish

things would simply move along,

what a waste.

I will teach you

to allow this,

my ways are stark,

yet instructive —

I am a hot stove.

If you partake before I am ready,

you will find little to smile about.

Wash your mouth out,

and wait patiently.

Get on with your life,

return to me

with more perspective,

I’ll make it worth your while.



Drum roll please,

Thumb, pointer, middle, ring, pinky-

And repeat,



While you daydream,

Whilst waiting,



Tapping your feet.

“Read a magazine,

Or something,

More distracting–

Or less distracting,

To other people,


Quit fidgeting,

Stop twitching.”

Flat screen Televisions,

Cover the walls,

Untouched children’s toys,

I’m too old for,

Riddle the floor.

Stuck in the lobby,

Awaiting drills,

Hooks, brushes,

And pumice.

The Waiting Game


Wu wei,

Each day,


Then part ways.

Nonaction, indeed,

Is a good strategy.

An absentee,

Cannot be,

On the team,


The loser.


Trains one,

To run from,

The game,


“Let it fall on your lap,”


Take a nap,

Do your taxes.

No matter how fast,

You run,

The rat race,

It doesn’t change,

The fact,

That beyond it’s face,

It’s a maze.