the entirity of your life

have you ever cocooned so deeply
that you no longer notice the weight of the laptop
or that the room has gone dark all around you?

have you ever postponed going to bathroom
until you are hungry or need to plug in your phone
so as not to waste the effort of the cold walk to the next room?

has pain and discomfort slowed time to the point
that you regret each day you have to bear, each meal you're forced to
feed the body that is perpetually betraying you?

have you ever thought you were depressed only to discover
that your life is simply depressing right now and the only peace
you find is in giving up, surrendering to the dark inevitable?

have you ever surmised the entirity of your life
by looking at the wrappers, bloody gauze, drooping flowers, unfinished books, half empty ginger ale bottles, tea cups loaded with a used yogurt spoon and tissues, pill bottles and the water glass you keep refilling
that comprise your complete lack of activity in the past week?

hot tea

i always burn my lips on boiling hot tea
it's my ritual
i know it's not steeped properly
i know it's too hot
but it's worth it

the fleeting moment of perfect tea haunts me
it's the wet chase
i need to taste that blissful sip
i sacrifice
but it's worth it

any fool can negligently gulp down cold tea
mindlessly partaking
likewise, any fool could write this poem
and yet, i needed to talk about tea today
today, however, i'm drinking coffee

This Year's Valentine

by Philip Appleman

They could
pump frenzy into air ducts
and rage into reservoirs,
dynamite dams
and drown cities,
cry fire in theaters
as the victims are burning,
but
I will find my way through blackened streets
and kneel down at your side.

They could
jump the median, head-on,
and obliterate the future,
fit .45's to the hands of kids
and skate them off to school,
flip live butts into tinderbox forests
and hellfire half the heavens,
but
in the rubble of smoking cottages
I will hold you in my arms.

They could
send kidnappers to kindergartens
and pedophiles to playgrounds,
wrap themselves in Old Glory
and gut the Bill of Rights,
pound the door with holy screed
and put an end to reason,
but
I will cut through their curtains of cunning
and find you somewhere in the moonlight.



Whatever they do with their anthrax or chainsaws,
however they strip-search or brainwash or blackmail,
they cannot prevent me from sending you robins,
all of them singing: I'll be there.

where is health?

if my health is entangled in my soul
and the interminable list of extraordinary ailments
perpetually expands
what does this tell of my soul?

am i enduring the trials of job
not according to my sin
or under the unjust scrutiny of god
but, a reprehensible test of faith?

or is this the work of empathy
that great tug of war betwixt the bleeding hearts
and my own anxious circle of life
which manifests as pestering illness?

could it be that a life of self-neglect
lobotomized from any real body presence
has finally caught up with me
and demands to be heard through painful means?

wherefore is my body riddled with
vertigo, migraines, uterine charlie horses, tendinitis, arthritis,
tmj, inflammation, fatigue, insomnia, palpitations, deviated septum,
thyroid nodules, autoimmune malfunction and pain, so much pain?

do i really want to know the state of my soul?
are these afflictions the abject denial of my soul's true state?
do i have a soul?
where is health?