the fires of boredom

the fifteenth of february crowns
an encapsulating sense of emptiness
in emotional twiddling
as I stare at the dead branches
of the winter trees, they are
just as immobile as my thumbs
which neither hold pen
nor twist idly…
music sours my ears
and friendships seem to fade
I am no longer a fighter of windmills
like my steed, I graze on dying weeds
books of fantasy lay scattered across the floor
opened, unread, like the mail
which is probably bad news anyway…
behind me the television has not yet
turned to snow, thirty years ago
while befriending my insomnia, it would have,
but the words I hear on the screen
make no sense, they bide the time
as bravely as I do, waiting
for a moment of magic
when a vision illuminates the dullness in my eyes
or a thought sparks vividly, ready to extinguish
the fires of boredom in my mind
and this lethargic nothingness
which seems to have borrowed my life
stops lingering between sunset and daylight
and finally lets me shake off my winter hibernation
ready to place a brightly colored flag
announcing the victory
over the summits of this inactivity



the fires of boredom
[2008.17.2…a]