Last Year I had a list;
a long list, a looooooong, long list.
I had a plan, a mile high all the way to the Brooklyn Bridge;
I dreamed about it,
I wrote about it and I virtually lived it
until it all went down the drain like soap water;
not the ideas but the dots on the list.
I put them all down in a cleaned, nice looking piece of paper and
one by one I intended to cross them over
but I didn’t.
I curved a pumpkin and put it in a mixer,
I made waves of promises,
sands of charts and sheaf of wheat,
blueprints of rocks
paraphernalia of my own desire
but I never crossed them over.
I envisioned stuff and made my homework,
I danced at my own tunes and rummaged the great Gods.
I dreamed big and big I did,
I did it and did it all that
I was going to do this and shuffle that
I was going to ride the boardwalks,
hang from the chandelier,
drink water from a spoon,
kick some ass and survive.
I was going to be God and miracles I expected
I was going to heaven for Christ sake
but I didn’t.
I didn’t because it got interrupted like always,
it got derailed in a exclamation point;
it got interrupted, thrown in the basket like a cartoon in heat,
discarded like a piece of garbage,
it hit the roof.
It smelled like cinnamon and
it was thick like a twig,
slick like a stick;
it went down before the roasters were up and up before I could sneeze
but I was not discouraged.
I was not broken,
I was not saddened;
I did not get lost or wandered off in the park.
I kept cool and took a sabbatical,
unexpected it was but vibrant and much needed brake,
it gave me.
So this year, I decided not to have one;
I am not making any plans.
I am stopping the madness and am not having a list!
Dog, pig, turkey, potato or any shape or structure it will land,
I decided not to write one down or
dream about one but
to sense one.
I decided to have a pallid pretend list,
vintage checkerboard and crossword puzzles, and
check them down as they come in bundles or whatever way they feel like;
and I will just follow along masqueraded like a mermaid.
It will not be totally vain but a self-indulging atlas with cardball and all.
In 2009 my friend you will be a year older, so what?!
It will not be a headache but a beach, a footnote, the price of a tag.
It will not be a nuisance but a beacon,
a semicolon, a talent of your own trait.
There will be skies of unpredictiveness, hoist of debris,
mountains to toss, pedals to totter but
don’t falter, just keep going;
don’t load whatever into the truck, just wave it off,
keep moving and say thank you.
Don’t be just a man or just a woman,
be a good man and a good woman,
be a better person.
Don’t preach your better sermon, preach your superior sermon;
don’t wait for the sky to fall but reach for the sky – as rhetoric it may sound,
go get it;
don’t bring in the clouds, cross over,
don’t cry a river,
do what your life content and life desire.
Be yourself and let it pour;
don’t ever stop, just keep going;
don’t make any list but