Poem in the Manner of Self-Help with a Moral

  When encountering an emotion

they say you should visualize

it somewhere in your body

I feel this spray of wild dill

barely hanging on in a light breeze

but it clanks too   like a tool chest

I like listening to the geezers

play chess and discuss

Normal Mailer novels

at the tiled table with folded up

paper under one of its legs

The man behind the counter

toting skullcap and attitude

I don’t know   he’s interesting

I imagine myself so

inexact by comparison

I like the idea that I’m progressing

spiritually   that I can maybe

sit longer inside the uncertainties

surrounding meaning

I sit here because it feels

like I’m not in the city

like I could leave life early

The loud types at the table

in the back make it clear

the world has nothing to teach them

I could learn something

from them too if I paid attention

long enough   not that I will