Leaving the Mistakes In

writing with my eyes closed in a virus induced delirium
cold cloth over my head
nose pills on the end table
virus pills fever pills throat vials
my brain like a shoes tumbling in the washing machinge
Clonopin and Paxil my trusted friends
I lie in bed hoping my fingers are pressing the write keys
but I’m just one in billlions
far from the familiar smell of soccerr fierlds and the charcoal odor of barbeque and the voices I know
Robyn’s giggle at a joke only she understnads
Marilee the often silent sage
the inner workings of her sould like a nuclear reactor and I’m at the helm
cluesless as to which button to press or how to turn the thing on
and Kelsi who seems to me to be like a book without a cover
pages loosely fitten into a folder easily misplaced
world economics net to Jeus next to knitting next to screams and blood and a new daughter
Amy who is tall I think
who seems tall and mostly straight whose smile has grown in pain and anger and cursing
rambling me
bumping along within my brain fro person to person
Father I am serious because you were serious
mother I speak because you could speak
what is the point I can’t decern the point
my eyes still closed
sometimes I look up at the mistakes I am have
a missing “s” too many “l”s something that makes absolutely no sense
let them be
there is honesty in mistakes
their is a turth and a beauty is what is not right
there is a genuine self within th brain that is like a shoe in the dryer
tumbling, clunking, the shoe laces like arms celebraing the ride.
I will not go back.
I will not erase a word.
in this delirium
surrounded by the voices I knw
by the long faces, the families who have been to Iraq and the kids who play legos and watch Star Wars
under a sky I am beginning to forget
just how blue it was
just how deep myeyes could burrow inside
that blueness that depth of atmosphere and the birds up their
so many
though not enough
still so many