My Wild Eye Poem by guillermo veloso

Adrift on these days of comfort, no sail no rudder
Listless, cynical
I am losing my ghosts and their stories here
I see a baptism in the mist that steals my wildness and rocks me to liturgical sleep
“I fear winter because it’s the season of comfort! ”
I need my wildness, my wild eye
To see the world as a drunken priest should, behind altars, around corners and under tables
Holding the keys loosely in the wilting grip of one who has said his goodbye before the last hello
It is here I will start my pilgrimage
It is here in this darkened small room that is my mind
Full with dusty things, it is from here that I journey
To reclaim my ghosts, free of angelic sophistry
My ghosts, farting, belching, shitting, living, loving as they should
To find them at the table, eyes closed, looking at me and
Toasting death