Alan Kissane

                        I want to build the walls of a house I don’t intend

                        to live in,

                                       just to use my hands.

                        I want to breathe free and easy,     all of the time.

                        It’s not much of a dream

                                       but it’s mine.

                        I want time to guide me forward, again. I’ve had

                                       enough of circles, curves. I don’t

                        understand geometry.

                        I want to see

                            what’s in front of me. To have

                        a ‘no surprises here’         sign

                        tattooed on my eyelid door,      in my clear light

                                   vision,

                                             like a worthwhile political slogan.

                        I don’t want to be alone. I’m afraid

                                       of being given   time to think, to feel.

                        I want to read

                        and consume

                                 words grown in fields of     azure    light.

                        But

                        I’m jealous of words;

                        the way they       connect and spark like I can’t,

                        with people, resonating within.

                        I don’t want to be crooked        anymore,

                        hunched over

                                                     the weight of my own life.

                        I just want to burn the unnecessary in me,

                                                              

                                                                   like Savaronola.