Caffeine and No Sleep

Joan went on vacation with her mom today. I was up later than usual last night, having drunk copious amounts of iced tea, and was up at 4:00 a.m. to take her to the airport. After leaving the airport with her unfinished coffee and not enough goodbye time, I had that jittery, fragile feeling I used to get when I did acid. Er, I mean, like I hear some people experience when they do certain drugs. This is what came out. I thought it was the beginning of a poem but the more I look at it the more I think it is complete.

Caffeine and No Sleep

Caffeine and no sleep,
That mescaline-like fragility,
The erotic sense of blood flow,
And a heart that never fails;
Ceaseless and ready,
I could love you forever--
If only you were here.

Chris Kmotorka, 28 Mar. 2009

Restoration

First, no, this is not "autobiographical." It came from a moment of wondering what a full recovery really means--often it is based solely on the physical and not necessarily on the emotional. Who knows how these thoughts flesh themselves out. I don't.

Restoration

I had the love knocked out of me.

A flash of light and ringing ears,

And memories drained and flushed

As though they never were.

This accident has left me hollow,

Drained, it seems, not filled

By the inability to love.

My limbs, though whole, they seem encased

In braces of indifference.

I touch without feeling.

I see without emotion.

And nothingness is all that touches me.

Your fingertips caress my cheek.

Your lips press lightly into mine.

But my heart no longer tumbles,

If once it ever did.

Like phantom limbs that never were,

Gone numb,

I feel I must be missing

What surely once was there. But

A full recovery, they say these words,

And so it seems that it must be,

I have always been this way.

Chris Kmotorka, 23 Mar. 2009

Bedouin

Bedouin

Bedouin, like shadow, drift
On sands shifting, timeless
Scimitars of existence,
History a crescent, curvilinear
Turns back upon itself
Nomads passing in and out
Of time itself.
Trader, merchant, herder,
Recognizing no border beyond
The soul of a man who
Lives without, but thrives.

The World shifts its axis
Around an island of sand.
Crisscrossing deserts
By way of oases
That mark the travels
Of generations, of species,
Of the origins of life.
This is the source of survival:
Welcome the stranger as brother--
One day you will travel,
And the need will be yours.

Chris Kmotorka, 28 Mar. 2009

Friends

Friends

I have friends and I can prove it.
Check out my Facebook profile--
There are names there
And what does it say?
Friends. Twenty-two of them!
And I have others, I swear.
Undocumented. Low tech.
But friends just the same.
I have friends, confirmed and rumored.
I have friends I know.
Some I think I know.
I have friends and
I don't have to prove a thing.

Chris Kmotorka, 11/21/08