The journey is almost complete. I have 1 more hour left of work. I have let my replacement take the rest of my classes and I will…well I don’t know. Have some drinks? Do some writing? Watch TV? I am all excited, nervous, and unsure about what is next. Even the next couple of days. I still have to do a couple of things, but there is nothing really to do but catch a plane and all the shit that that involves…first world problems…really, no plans, except the rest of my life. Just another step down and a darkened space below. That was a long way of saying, ‘I don’t know what to write.’ Perhaps when I reach the afterglow, when I leave and reflect back I will have some thoughts. I still have many incomplete poems to finish for my poetry project Isles, which recounts my thoughts and experiences of 6 months of life working on a little island in Thailand.
Here is another poem for the compilation…digest.
Connexion to Mars
The speedboat thumps over a sea like broken glass;
sparkling, jagged and blue.
I recline and rock with the motion
shading my eyes while stealing glimpses
of clouds like thought bubbles in the sky
thinking beyond these
of one way tickets to Mars and the fact
that there is nowhere now we cannot go.
Other passengers grumble discontent at the crowds
disturbing their deserted paradise.
Mystery is the bliss
of the ignorant fantasies we create.
But reality and its routines create familiarity.
From one tropical island to the next
we pass dozens more
filling a line up to the mundane.
Plane tickets to deserted paradises
are packaged with paradox illusions.
Connexion has killed isolation.
Mystery dies as we are one step
closer to Mars.
Goldbot
Bloodwords 