graced with world-weariness

i'm not entranced anymore
by ideas of a me who can or can't.
and i'm not interested anymore
in the big liars and the plots and schemes
that trickle me down to nothing.
i'm just not.

i'm not dying to do or be anything at all anymore,
if it happens it happens.
Sometimes i'd rather be sleeping
or else out walking the fragrant streets
of berkeley,
studying poppies,
or out of my skin elsewhere.
i'd like to see other worlds
and i'm not so naieve as to believe
that this is the only one open to viewing.

i don't care anymore about getting it on
about getting published, well, ok, yes, that, but
i'm not losing sleep over it or any thing or any man

the thing i loose sleep over is the pain
of my son
and from there, the rest of the world
but
when that happens i just try to feel it so it can pass sooner.

the thing is, sometimes i think i'm having the beginning
of a heart attack
but it never is.
still,
when it happens i think,
that would be fine if i finally got exempted
from this world,
it would really really be a relief
but i can't
i can't because the people
that know me wouldn't accept it
as a natural wonderful thing.

so i'm here, biding my time,
knowing i'm not a physical being
having a spiritual experience,
but a spiritual being having a physical
experience,
as the saying goes.

maybe i don't fear death because i don't fear life so much
any more.

i just wish it wasn't such a big deal to everyone else