OUTSIDE

I wish I were outside now

For the clean fresh wind

The energy of the clouds

In screen and scud and sky

And the way places

Askew the sidewalks of life

I am cooped, like a chicken

With a golden egg

Tethered to the world electronically

Stowing my passion in my fingers

And crying aloud for freedom

I am a prisoner of my own creation

No hunger fed through relaxed conversation

No brave assumptions to cross

No salubrious movement or chance encounters

Inside without access to observation

A familiar grid crowding my perception

I wish dreamily another font

Another station for explorers or soothsayers

I wish a slower world where I can hide with my intentions

Where I can achieve a modicum of life’s fruit without

Always having to gaze over my shoulder or shut out the light

Of passion

An idle dream to live, impossible to pursue in

The continuous stream of jack and jaw polluting our inner world

Where action is required to keep from flying to the winds

And rigidity for survival.

The world is too much for us, that we

Must fill it with static

And broadcast our own message in abundance

Like the seed

To fester on fallow ground and turn the innocent to deceit.

Alas, we have come to it, and in so short a time.

Squandered our heritage for a veiled command that we are not enough.