Painless Headache

A painless headache

It’s feet in my stomach

It’s treading water


Waiting for an answer

The mailbox is empty

I’m expecting a delivery

And left the door cracked


Eight states border Missouri

My house, today slated with misery

Where is the shipment of citrate from Avalon

To line my parapet?


Spent the day making love to a watch

To the pace of the grandfather clock

My reflection in the tock 

of its brazenly arched pendulum — 

revealing my concave awareness


All the while... where’s my answer?

Where’s peace to grasp?

Just when I nearly accepted that I was abandoned

I remembered I forgot to ask