To the Artist's Page                              To our home page

To David Christian Stanfield's previous piece     To David's next piece

Holiday Job

zurich colored brightly
man listen to poetry,
glance back over shoulder
and say to me:

"this is your holiday job?"

now i don't even know
what the fuck a holiday job is,
but my thoughts scream
yeaahhh!--ten bucks an hour
to sit on my ass:
read write recite poetry
breakfast lunch late-afternoon snack
qigong yoga breathe lao-tze dim sum
and not once have i heard
that plantation whip crack!

every other hour phone ring
reverie bring tangerine-orange
dream with ani amy emily & me
holding high court in the lowlands
of memphis, tennessee...

turning my thoughts to dc--
cooled by the early-afternoon ac
i reflect on being benched
by the international
multi-conglomerational corporate

SPONSOR

told me to "get a job"
but i think less of that
than i thought of him

(though i was careful not to say so)

and now it's
journal entry card letter chapbook
lift breathe bend knees don't forget
take time color in Chinese-

(did i mention chapbook?)

and now wouldn't ya know it--
the damn phone's off the hook!

(and please note that i don't even care)

because b'cause b'cuz
my ambition is tethered to my soul
rather than some silly obnoxious
and earthly bound goal,
so after the

"day job"

evenings & weekend spend freely:
sweat lodge open mic acupuncture
reiki poetry poetry & more poetry
dvd nap make a meeting
can you feel me?

"this is your holiday job?"

still hangs in the air & the only
response i can give i am giving--
look that man right straight in the eye
and say, 

"yeah--i live for a living."

To the top of this page