Posts tagged "poetry"


posted by Dan Mundy  

I was homeless, for a week,
because I left my home in a box back in Jersey,
and I uprooted myself, forgetting those roots
in that box.

Turns out I was still made of scaffolding,
which collapsed like a building in New York City
getting knocked down for new development,
but the basement had asbestos and rats,
and I had to call the hazmat and the sanitation departments.
I, uh, meant to take care of it all years ago,
but the departments had such massive backlogs,
that I just gave up and forgot about it all.
Until now.

So with my sense of self and place
stored away, and my new home under construction,
I was lost. I could not find myself.
And I forgot I had to build myself
a new home.

This time, it won’t be just an outline,
a hypothetical mode of existence
predicated by the immediacy of my needs.

I have a life to live.
And for that, I need a much more robust framework.
While I know I must still sway,
I can no longer change with the wind,
because I like my life,
and I want to keep it for a while.

posted on June 14, 2013 at 10:17 PM

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I/O - a Poem about Disorientation in New York City

posted by Dan Mundy  

Everything around me is
new, but familiar somehow.
And you don’t just gain or just lose,
you exchange one piece for another,
as you gain poverty by losing money
or love or a home or friends,
even if you know you’ll get it all back soon enough.
I have everything I’ve worked for so far,
but I had to let go of so much
just to take each step on the path to get here.
After all, traveling light is quickest,
and there’s the whole road ahead.
Hopefully the journey will continue
and continue to be so good.

posted on June 10, 2013 at 11:37 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  

This wide slow sleepiness engulfs me
overnight as I partially recharge.
Human battery chemistry is even more complex than the real thing.
We take so long to charge, and with such fragile contacts.
I awake a little bit soft, not quite fresh.
The impact of yesterday’s exhaustion
leaves the imprint of a mushy bruise on my otherwise sweet flesh.
“Cut it off and eat the rest,” my Dad would say.
They say fruit contains an electric charge.

posted on April 25, 2013 at 10:21 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  

A double shot of coffee bumps
me up into the realm of cruising & humming,
rescuing my indifferent body from
the limp land of lacking sleep
and injecting solenoids into my joints
so that I may push on well enough.

posted on April 25, 2013 at 10:14 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  


Sometimes I need scaffolding
in order to get through the day,
because today is a building day,
a day in which another story is written.


And perhaps I just need to take a story off the story stack I’m building
and crumble it up and toss the crumbs into the wastebasket
and empty the fucking wastebasket,
because it wasn’t that good of a day.


But now today is an exploring day.
Time to get away from the city and
see other things, for once, than
the view atop my story stack.


Today, I just need to get off the roof
and sleep all day on the third or fifth floor
in an inner room without windows,
or characters, who move on without me.

posted on April 25, 2013 at 9:59 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  

Sometimes I am so happy that
I forget I have depression
and in my brightest hour
a sense of impending doom
sneaks up uninvited
like Ravel’s Bolero, which I recall
was made possible by a degenerative disease of the mind—————
but Bolero makes me feel so good
and depression is once again momentarily forgotten

posted on April 25, 2013 at 9:50 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  

The number five is a smooth warm grey.
Silver, but just as soft
as the hissing of a vessel
traveling the trajectory,
landing on the moon.

The touch of the warm grey suede
on my soft sneakers
whistling in the wind,
gliding like spaceships
sliding over the ground.

The number five is a stripe of orange.
Sharp, but soft
as the saturation of the sunset,
slipping away,
fading to a warm grey.

posted on April 25, 2013 at 10:49 AM

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Spring This Time

posted by Dan Mundy  

Spring this time makes me green,
green with envy,
brimming with the fear of missing out.
Last Spring, wasn’t I
muted, mellow, flowing with grit?

I remember how the warmth used to thaw my soul,
melt my heart. This time, I enter the fray
with unsettled nerves, crossed wires,
a heat that has burned
me all winter long.

I am aware of all these things happening around me.
I have selected a singular one of them in which to participate.
As progress approaches, I am stagnating, waiting.
The looming beginning of great new things signals the end
of things I have just begun to settle into.

posted on March 10, 2013 at 8:44 PM

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posted by Dan Mundy  

inexplicable slight variations
inexact repetitions
inconsequential but noticeable differences
lost trains of thought
cancer cures missed
other important discoveries made

posted on December 31, 2012 at 9:47 PM

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New Beast

posted by Dan Mundy  

I trust myself.
It was hard at first.
This is no end, no destination,
but I’m glad I’ve gotten this far.

Once I was a monster,
made of stress, frustration, anguish, and confusion.
Echoes of my roar still make me quiver.
It was a cry for help, help I was not ready to receive.

I would rage in fits and starts,
pent up yearning smacked down time and again.
I threw myself at walls, trying to break them.
I forgot there were such things as doors.

Now I am a new beast,
one made of a primal urge to be decent and good.
I am fit and taut, surrounded by warmth and excitement.
Dark days still hit hard, but they are scarce.

No more bursts of anger,
but steady flows of production.
My revolutionary days are done. Now I tune and tweak.
Mindfulness, skill, and purpose are my most intimate friends.

I am no longer nascent, but still emerging.
I have cast off my shell, for I no longer need it.
I no longer need defense, for I am on the offense.
There’s much to do, and it’s all good.

posted on August 21, 2012 at 3:26 PM

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