Failures Walking Sideways, A Poem by Chris Russell

~ Chris Russell

When I think about my relationship with work

I’m reminded of all those times I couldn’t believe

how bad things had gotten in the workplace,

to the point where even the most valued workers

were being pushed out to the end of their patience

and made to dive into a shark-infested future

with only hunger on its mind, and all in an effort

to simply lighten the load on those running the ship,

while producing treasures that never felt good enough.

Later, having miraculously landed on a deserted island

of underemployment, where opportunity fell

on my head and gave me mental diarrhea each time

I swallowed too much of it, I did what I needed to do

in order to survive.

I kept myself hydrated, performed a few regular

exercises to keep my joints oiled, and even meditated

on my salty tears when most days after work I felt so

deeply underrepresented I begged for a sudden and

untimely death to give me all its attention, to slither up

and fatally bite me in my sleep through my ramshackle

tent of hope I’d made from whatever shit washed up.

Now, I’m just as lost as I ever was, and the island of

displacement still rumbles underneath me like a reason

to blow, only now the views from the shore where my

failures erupted out of what kindness I could defiantly

unbury, walk sideways, snapping their claws day and night

back into the mouth of an unfeeling universe I can’t seem

to change the gravity of, but while looking sunnier

than they used to,

the blue water bluer, the scavenger birds friendlier than

before, or at least it seems that way when they land close

as if to pull up a chair and watch a show, but are really

just waiting for me to you know damn well what.

Published by Chris Russell

Hi, I'm Chris, and thank you so much reader for visiting my blog and wanting to learn a little bit about me. I know time is a hot commodity these days, more so now than ever I think, which is why it’s my hope that you make it a priority to read my poems under some low light when you have some time on your hands and can really read and reread them closely and experience something shining in them. It’s my sincerest hope that they make you want to look at yourself, your world, and poetry itself a little differently, while they also encourage you to be more kind and gentle with yourself and others. I know when I read a poem, regardless of its subject, I expect to feel asked in and touched by its speaker. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn’t. That’s the way it goes, right? It would be great though if some of these poems brushed against you. As for when I write, it’s always my intention to lift and exteriorize more understandably complex emotions and states of consciousness I’m currently experiencing, and it's usually through an analysis and highly conscious reframing of my childhood that this happens, though I’ve been known to veer into writing surreal-like absurdism and allegorical prose poetry when the wind splits me that way. Where am I on the planet? This MFA in Writing fossil with an ever expanding Dad bod now lives and works in Concord, New Hampshire where I currently divide much of my time between writing, blogging, assisting middle school students who have special needs, and navigating the journey that is my own really unimpressive, but no less valuable dark night. From my own cave in the wilderness, I’d like to say thanks again for stopping by and spending some of your invaluable time. I invite you to please put your feet up and subscribe for a while, and if you’re feeling moved by one of my poems please share it with a dear friend, preferably someone who doesn’t like poetry.