{"id":9163,"date":"2015-05-29T09:00:38","date_gmt":"2015-05-29T13:00:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=9163"},"modified":"2015-05-29T09:52:24","modified_gmt":"2015-05-29T13:52:24","slug":"lost-in-this-i-took-some-bukowski-to-drivers-ed-and-1046-a-m","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/lost-in-this-i-took-some-bukowski-to-drivers-ed-and-1046-a-m\/","title":{"rendered":"Lost in This, I Took Some Bukowski to Driver’s Ed, and 10:46 a.m."},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Poems_585x585\"<\/a><\/p>\n

lost in this<\/strong><\/p>\n

with no way of going back
\nwe find ourselves lost in this
\nin darkness blind
\nin ignorance paralyzed<\/p>\n

lost in a great between
\nfloating somewhere
\nbetween piece\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 whole
\nbetween man\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 mankind<\/p>\n

lost in the labyrinth
\nup against a wall
\nwith no inhibition
\nsomething roars in the dark<\/p>\n

lost in illusion
\nspellbound by abstractions of being
\nof morality
\nof purpose<\/p>\n

lost in the void
\nnumb from isolation
\nsleeping\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 waking
\nstaring at the ground\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 walking<\/p>\n

lost in ourselves
\nimagining patterns
\nconnecting faded dots
\nmemorizing rhymes<\/p>\n

lost in everything
\nstaring at the stars until our eyes blur
\nwe glimpse the world
\nas it is<\/p>\n

lost in this
\nwe live blindfolded
\ndelusional in happiness
\nhysterical in depression<\/p>\n

lost in this
\nwe have been blindfolded
\nhere in this ongoing wilderness
\nthere is no going back<\/p>\n

here in this pit
\nwe have suffered
\nwe have struggled to breathe
\nwe have tried in vain to see the sun<\/p>\n

hoped with every inch of thought
\nthat it will find us
\nrescue us
\nfrom the ink we have survived in<\/p>\n

we have survived in this
\nwe have existed
\nsearching
\nfor something beyond this<\/p>\n

something boundless<\/p>\n

vivid<\/p>\n

true<\/p>\n

i took some bukowski to driver\u2019s ed<\/strong><\/p>\n

it was our
\nlast
\nthe teacher,
\nmr gillian,
\nmight have been
\nsleeping or
\nusing
\nthe internet
\nat any given
\nwe had been
\nled to
\nbelieve
\nwe would be
\ntaking
\na
\ntest
\nthis day
\nbut mr
\ngillian
\ndid
\na charitable thing
\nand let us
\nsit
\naround
\nand<\/p>\n

twenty minutes
\npassed
\nas i waited
\nfor
\nthe
\nbus
\nfrom
\nthe other high school to
\nour bus had come
\nfrom our h.s.
\nto the
\ncareer center.<\/p>\n

kids from the other high school
\ncame
\nto
\ndriver\u2019s ed at
\nthe career
\ncenter
\ntoo,
\nand
\nthe other high school was
\nmuch
\nfarther
\naway, so
\ni<\/p>\n

sylvia
\nand
\nmargot
\narrived
\nand walked
\ninto
\nclass
\ntogether, as
\nthey
\nalways
\nhad<\/p>\n

i had
\nturned sylvia
\nonto
\ncharles bukowski
\nby
\naccident,
\ncorrupted
\nshe bought
\nlove is a dog from hell<\/em>
\nafter i
\ncame to
\nclass
\none day
\nwith
\nham on rye.<\/em>
\nshe was
\nshe was
\nshe always
\ndressed<\/p>\n

margot
\nwas also
\na good
\none,
\nthough
\nshe
\nmight
\nnever have
\nreally
\ntaken
\nto
\ni let
\nher
\nborrow
\nthe catcher in the rye,<\/em>
\nfigured
\nit
\nwas
\nclose enough.<\/p>\n

we
\ntalked for
\na
\nlittle
\nwhile
\nand
\nwe began to
\npass
\naround
\nthe book
\ni had
\nwith me,
\nyou get so alone<\/em>
\nat times<\/em>
\nthat it just makes<\/em>
\nsense,<\/em>
\nand we
\nstarted
\nat the
\nbeginning
\nand read
\nthe poems
\nfrom there.
\nanother guy,
\nzack,
\ngood fellow,
\nwrestler,
\ncame over
\nto
\ntalk
\nto
\nus,
\nand we
\npulled him
\ninto the
\nhe
\nread after
\nmargot and
\ndidn\u2019t read
\nvery
\nwell; he was
\nquiet
\nand
\nmonotonous
\nbut still
\na
\ngood<\/p>\n

after
\nthree
\nrounds
\nor so,
\ni
\nstarted to
\ngive
\nmy
\nturn
\naway
\nto
\nthis kid
\nnamed
\nmark
\nwho had
\nprobably
\nnever
\nread a poem
\nbefore
\nin his life.<\/p>\n

he
\ndidn\u2019t
\nlike to
\nread them
\nbut he did
\nbecause i asked.
\nhe sped
\nthrough
\nevery line
\nand
\nslurred
\nhis words
\nand just
\ngot it
\nover
\ni gave him
\nall
\nthe best poems.<\/p>\n

then i handed the book
\nto this kid
\ntucker
\nto read,
\nand he read
\na little better,
\nbut
\nhe came to
\nan
\nf-word,
\ncompletely lost
\nhis train
\nof
\nthought, and
\nread that line
\nthree times
\nas the
\nkids
\nsurrounding him
\nsaid,
\n\u201cwhoa, is that
\nreally what it
\nsays?\u201d
\n\u201coh, god!\u201d
\n\u201ci didn\u2019t know
\npoems
\ncuss!\u201d
\n\u00a0<\/span>
\nafter that,
\ntwo kids
\nstarted
\nto
\nargue
\n(i think
\nsomeone
\nsaid something rude
\nabout
\nmark)
\n(the teacher had
\ngone to get
\ncoffee).
\nthe
\nclass
\nentered
\nthis
\nargument,
\nthe kids from
\nmy high school
\nand
\nthe kids
\nfrom
\nthe other high school
\nyelling
\nat each other,
\n\u201chey, you
\nbetter
\nwatch your BACK
\nbefore i come
\nSTOMP your ass,
\nbitch!\u201d
\n\u201chey, you don\u2019t
\nmess with
\nMARK; you\u2019ll
\nmess with ME
\nFIRST!\u201d
\ni did it, too:
\n\u201chey man,
\nyou
\nbetter get
\nthe hell out of
\nDODGE
\nbefore i come
\nFIND
\nyou!\u201d
\n\u00a0<\/span>
\ntensions were high.
\nwe sat
\nquietly
\nand
\nmargot
\nshared her crackers.
\nsylvia and i
\npassed notes,
\ndrew cats,
\ndrew people stirring pots,
\ndrew staircases.
\nthe bell rang.
\nwe
\nleft.<\/p>\n

10:46 a.m.<\/strong><\/p>\n

the hallway is flooding
\nand the tiles seem made of bones\u2014
\ni don\u2019t know how i got here.
\ni think i may faint from sheer loneliness.
\nfootsteps go unheard
\nwithin the 1,000 footsteps of the
\ncrowd, hoots and howls sounding,
\ncouples leaning against the wall
\neither arguing or making up\u2014
\nevery word a separate paroxysm\u2014
\nvoices whining, spinning
\n& shaking.
\nfaces carry so much that
\nyou can nearly see their secrets
\nhidden beneath the skin,
\npale under fluorescent ceilings.
\nwhispered between sound waves,
\nthe noise is homogeneous;
\nthe noise is static made of
\nthis guy at his locker wears $200
\ntennis shoes & as he puts in his
\ncombination he says to another guy
\nin $250 tennis shoes,
\n\u201ci had a chocolate chip cookie cake
\nit was pretty good.\u201d
\nhis friend smiles, looking at his own
\nfingernails, his mind elsewhere,
\nthe footsteps growing louder.<\/p>\n

\n

Luis Neer is a young writer of poetry and prose. His work appears\/is forthcoming in\u00a0<\/span>Right Hand Pointing<\/i>,\u00a0<\/span>The Write Room<\/i>,\u00a0<\/span>The Rain, Party & Disaster Society<\/i>, and elsewhere. An alumnus of the creative writing program at the 2014 West Virginia Governor\u2019s School for the Arts, he attends high school in New Cumberland, West Virginia, where he lives.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

with no way of going back<\/p>\n

we find ourselves lost in this<\/p>\n

in darkness blind<\/p>\n

in ignorance paralyzed<\/p>\n

lost in a great between<\/p>\n

floating somewhere<\/p>\n

READ MORE.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001006,"featured_media":9396,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,218,219,199],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9163"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001006"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9163"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9163\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9397,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9163\/revisions\/9397"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9396"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9163"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9163"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9163"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}