silence come

   
   
time at sea    
and my mind stuck on the words of the greeks    
has ruined me for much of life    
   
unable now  
to spend time among the chattering people    
and small talk    
   
couldn’t care less where the best restaurants are    
or whose beer is outbrewing whose    
   
my diet is stripped down    
to only what I need    
in permanent training    
for days and days on the boat    
   
the greeks say things about that    
and Buddha too;  
that a man should take in to himself    
only what he needs    
   
each day alive makes me more that way    
   
I spend my hours in books and at the pen  
studying    
writing replies to long-dead men  
   
taking peace    
and quiet    
and small journeys    
where a moment of kindness    
to the young guy at the supermarket checkout    
while he struggles to be as fast  
as people seem to need him to be  
is enough human contact for me    
   
and my writing too    
gone quiet    
because it must be vanity    
to insist my thoughts upon the reader    
when it’s all been said already    
and me just more meat    
ready for the rotting    
   
so I take my small joys where I find them    
make my bed in the morning    
work my days    
sit in the sun when I can    
listen to my friends    
while they talk  
of unthinking things  
and I miss my dog  
for only ever saying  
what he means  
   
I try to do each day well    
   
as if it were my last    
as surely one day it will be    
practicing daily    
for death    
   
and silence comes    
   
more beauty in it    
than anything    
a poet    
has to say