Enlightened
By Craig Kirchner
I wanted to write something, no idea, no plan
just desire, got out a new legal pad,
one that hasn’t had its virgin pages
abused yet, white - yellow is for lawyers,
always makes me feel like I’m lying.
The skinny, simple-red margin is the perfect
invitation to tell the story. The soothing blue lines
are cyan, a low contrast blue that doesn’t strain the eyes,
wanting you to feel comfortable with the pen,
at home with your thoughts.
And that’s when I realize I have none. I’m told,
write about your exploits. I haven’t had any.
I empty the dishwasher, take out the trash, get the mail,
don’t get me wrong I’m not looking for a job,
just some experience worthy of this pad.
I’m in a nothing-zone that doesn’t allow for experiences,
that is mindlessness of supposed pure enlightenment,
the nothing-going-on that levitates, makes these words
rise off these cyan lines, makes me realize there is no poem
here yet, and I should be naked for this state of other worldliness.
Craig is retired and living in Jacksonville because that’s where his grandchildren are. He loves the aesthetics of writing, has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels and has been nominated three times for Pushcart. He was recently published in Decadent Review, Chiron Review, The Main Street Rag, Hamilton Stone Review, The Wise Owl and dozens of others. He houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems on a laptop. These words tend to keep him straight.