by Eric Nixon
Trying Not To Blink
   A Poetry Collection
   by 
   Eric Nixon
   Cover image and design by Eric Nixon.
   © 2013 by Eric Nixon
   ISBN: 9781301466221
   All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any process without first obtaining written permission from the author; the exception being a reviewer who may quote brief passages with appropriate credit. 
   That being said, I’m pretty flexible with fully credited adaptations. Please contact me if you are considering adapting or remixing any works contained within this book.
   All situations depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination and may not match any reality known to otherwise exist elsewhere. 
   Published by Eric Nixon.
   [email protected]
   EricNixon.net
   Dedication
   This collection is dedicated to my mother, Sharon Jandrow, who is awesomely awesome. 
   Thank you! I love and appreciate you.
   Author’s Forward
   Earlier in my life (mostly in the early-to-mid 2000s), I wrote a lot of poetry. I even published a collection of my favorites called Anything but Dreams. In 2005 I found my poetry levels exhausted, and turned my attention to writing novels. Whenever I thought about my poetry, I mentally shrugged and thought, “It was just something I did at one point in my life. It got me through a tough spot, I’m thankful for it, but I’m past that now.”
   In early August of 2011, I received an email from the nice folks at Prairie Home Productions saying that Garrison Keillor wanted to read my poem, “Riding The Red Line,” on his public radio program, The Writer’s Almanac. All they needed was my permission, my social security number, and an address to send a check to.
   I read that email, and re-read it (a few times). My first thought was, “No way. This is a total scam from some scammy scammer trying to get my social security number.” I did some research online and later thought, “Hm. Their story seems to check out.” 
   I also realized that the chances a scammy scammer-type person would know the name of a specific poem from my collection, Anything but Dreams was infinitesimally small. That’s when it hit me, “Oh my God, Garrison Keillor wants to read my poem on the radio!” I quickly wrote back and gave them my information and approval to use the poem. 
   It aired a few weeks later on my wife’s birthday, which was an extra special treat. Hearing Garrison’s distinctive voice read something I wrote (on public radio with millions of people listening) impacted me greatly forced me to question why I stopped writing poetry so many years before. 
   A month or so later, I was at the Emily Dickinson Museum doing research and getting inspiration for my novel, Emily Dickinson, Superhero – Vol. 1. While standing in Emily’s room, I stared at the little corner where she wrote the majority of her poetry and ended up reflecting again on my own. On the way home, I made the decision to start poeting again. 
   What you are holding is the summation of my poetic observances for 2012. It includes all 160 poems, presented in the order in which they were written. They cover a little bit of everything from huge happiness to a near-death experience, and everything in-between. 
   Thank you for choosing to spend time with my words. I greatly appreciate it.
   Eric
   January, 2013
   Table of Contents
   January 
   December 31
   Craving Communication
   From Me To You
   Lottery
   Natural Pointillism
   Trying Not To Blink
   A Word Of Advice
   Exception To The Rule
   Big Beautiful Flakes Falling
   Perpetual March
   February 
   Negativity
   It’s Sorted Sometime Later
   Buddy
   Everything Grows
   Followers
   Microscope
   Small Talk
   Literary Inadequacy
   Returning To The Past
   Chained Down
   Too Many Twos
   March 
   Slips Like Socks
   A Night Brighter With Snow
   Better In Here Than Out There
   When I Was Younger
   The Edge Of Mean
   Have A Great Day
   Actually, Roman
   Focused
   Mid-Morning On A Sunday
   Killed Him With Kindness
   April 
   Thanks To Facebook
   Ranting Old Man
   Spending Time
   Break
   Whimmy
   Assumptions of Belief
   Comments Section
   Members Only
   Released From the Cerebral 
   The Dachshund Emerged
   Lack of Permanence
   Subpar
   Hypocriting
   Lazy Tumble
   Shoe-Deep In A Puddle
   May 
   Someone Else’s Desk
   Photo From The Future
   Whose Benefit
   Five Years
   940 Saturdays
   Lacquered Dreams
   Words Overheard
   Welcoming
   June 
   Ethan Allen Express
   Reel Mower
   Toys On A String
   July 
   Night Lights
   The Morning Ritual
   Softer and Prettier
   Caught In The Middle
   Drowned
   Night-Lights
   I’m Sitting A Little Higher In My Seat This Morning
   I Killed Emily Dickinson
   Sunkist Sun
   August 
   Shoulder The Stream
   Whoopie Pie
   Toast Ghost
   That Is Enough
   Sleep Please Take
   Wading Through The Nonsense
   Flip The Switch Of Autumn
   The Unkind Of Person
   Defined By The Decade
   Watched A Windy Gust
   September 
   Enlightenment
   Cool, Green, And Blue
   Polarized
   Jump In A Lake
   Who We Are
   Pulled Into Infinity
   Doodles And The Everworse
   Our Emotional Selves
   Meaning Beyond The Mundane
   Rural Ballet
   Old Man With A Time Machine
   Throwing Godrays
   Seismograph
   Tail Up With Swagger
   Before Shot
   Schism
   After Dinner Walk
   Saved And Exited
   October 
   Glom
   Off The Desk Entirely
   The Bridge In My Wake
   Value Tradeoff
   Haunted Hayride
   Scientists Call It Instinct
   One Letter
   Through The Vent
   The Changing Face Of Friendship
   Seasonal Exposure
   A Pointed Reminder
   Releasing Emily
   What Fear Wrought
   Devolving Culture
   Crinkly Sweep Sweep
   November 
   The Wind Raged On
   Letting The Outsider In
   First Night Of Standard Time
   Living Between The Xs
   Factories
   Consumption Is A Hungry Thing
   Notion In Mind
   The Problem
   Disasters Are Wonderful
   Consumer
   There Will Be Duplicates
   The Futuristic S
ight
   Getting The Word Out
   Reading Someone Else’s Poetry
   Aquatic Intentions
   White Jeep
   The Connection
   Corn Snow
   An Inattentive Oncomer
   The Bulk Of Humanity’s Preoccupations
   Contradictions
   Lazy Flakes
   Content Crazy
   Up Down
   Forget Them Entirely
   A Delayed Present
   December 
   Center Illumination
   Don A Softer Pant
   A Branch Apart
   Momentum
   Certain Keys Are Cleaner
   Keeps Us In
   Post Office Parking Lot
   Beauty
   Spaces
   Trying To Type Quickly, Quietly
   Peaking In The Distance
   All You Have Is Now
   First On The Scene
   That Same Song Finds Me
   The Poet King Of Amherst
   So Essential
   Let Down By Something, By Nothing
   Revive My Interest
   The Smell Of Tradition
   One Side Knows
   Dead-Ends And Other Places
   Light Fluff
   Swirly Blur
   Re-Living The Moment
   Ending It
   JANUARY
   December 31
   Today is
   The last, final, day
   Nothing left to do
   Nowhere else to go
   For the year ends here
   Starting tomorrow
   2011 will seem old and dated
   But when I think of tomorrow
   January is
   Open, white, and wide
   Like a winter’s field
   Spreading beyond the hills of February
   Into the warmer days beyond
   This year’s calendar is used up
   Dark and ending
   If I look, think, back
   It’s brighter behind
   But I never look that way
   Only down at the square
   I’m standing on today
   And the sidewalk-like cubes
   Spreading ahead of me
   In the bright light
   Of all of the tomorrows
   Making up my future
   January 1, 2012
   Benson, Vermont
   Craving Communication
   I check and refresh
   My thumbs hovering
   Ready to strike
   The spinny stops
   The thumbs relax
   I have nothing
   No emails
   No texts
   No tweets
   No likes
   Nothing.
   I’m at work and bored
   Craving communication
   Social media’s the placenta
   With the Wi-Fi umbilical
   And I’m starving by the minute
   Minutes pass
   The screen dims
   A finger flicks out
   And refreshes again
   Maybe there’s something now…
   January 3, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   From Me To You
   At first I thought
   All poetry had to 
   Conform to
   A certain length
   A certain rhyme
   A certain scheme
   A certain style
   But now I know
   That’s not true
   Sometimes it’s just
   A free-flow of ideas
   From me to you
   January 3, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Lottery
   The right place 
   At the right time
   One hundred million for me
   The wrong place
   The right time
   One hundred million
   For someone else
   I look at the results and frown
   In my heart I know I’m the true winner
   I watch as they walk away, 
   The winner with the crown
   Maybe soon
   I’ll finally know
   What it’s like
   To stand upon that stage
   January 3, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Natural Pointillism
   Opposite of ink
   The white dots fall
   And dot the ground
   Invisible at first
   Give it time and watch
   Dots join dots
   And begin to build
   What started as
   Natural pointillism
   Dots on a brown canvas
   Has lovingly layered
   As the clouds tries their best
   To cover the ugliness 
   We’ve strewn carelessly
   Across the land
   January 12, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Watching the first snowfall of 2012 as it covers up the crap out my window at work.
   Trying Not To Blink
   The last twenty years have zipped by
   Quicker than the blink of an eye
   When I think of how fast it’s gone
   And how much more I want to get done
   I’ve made up my mind
   I’m trying not to blink
   In an effort to grab ahold of the seconds
   In an experiment that won’t succeed
   Locked in a staring contest with time
   Time’s got all the time it needs
   January 12, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Thinking about how time slips by quicker than anything else I can think of.
   A Word of Advice
   The once hardy 
   And plentiful
   New Englander
   Has been replaced
   By a thin-skinned sort
   Who complains about the weather
   A half-inch of snow falls down
   My social media feeds fill up
   With the angry rants
   Critical complaints
   And those who bemoan
   The terrible conditions
   They are forced to endure
   No matter the weather
   They’re out en mass
   Letting you know they’re
   Unhappy, miserable, and suffering
   As for me, I appreciate the variation
   That each day brings
   To the constant complainers
   I offer this single word of advice:
   Move.
   January 12, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   It seems like every single time it snows, rains, is sunny, chilly, windy, pleasant, or whatever, someone on Facebook or Twitter is complaining about the weather.
   Exception To The Rule
   It seems today
   No mater what the reason
   No matter the situation
   Each and every person
   Is an exception
   It’s like they think
   “Hours, rules, policies –
   None of that applies to me!”
   Decades of selfishness
   And self-entitlement
   Have left a stain
   That will take
   Generations to wash away
   January 12, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   It doesn’t matter if my window at work is closed, people still pound on it, half an hour after closing time, demanding service. It’s merely annoying now, but it was nearly unbearable when I used to be a hotel manager. For most people it’s like, no rule applies to anyone, ever.
   Big Beautiful Flakes Falling
   At my office window
   Standing, staring, wanting
   To be out there among the
   Big beautiful flakes falling
   Face up, feeling the gentle sting
   Of the snow as the complexly-shaped
   Ice crystals hit 
my skin and melt
   Arms outstretched, watching the 
   Buildup of snow extend along the length
   The phone rings and returns my mind inside
   Reluctantly, I turn my back on nature
   Calling to me from out there
   January 12, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Me. Today. At work. 
   Perpetual March
   Deep in the midst of January
   Steeped in another winter that wasn’t
   Looking out of the window
   At the sporadic patches of ice
   Interspersed with grass and dirt
   Wondering where’s the snow
   As I swap my winter coat
   For a lighter one
   Feeling the 50
   Of the thermometer
   Annoyed at the 
   Perpetual March
   That has usurped the season
   January 31, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   FEBRUARY
   Negativity
   Familiarity breeds contempt
   Negativity is content
   Being created by you
   Repetition strengthens 
   And cements the foundation
   You mind’s focus
   Makes it grow
   To the point where
   It’s all you know
   February 1, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   I used to live in a small city where there was an overwhelming oppressive negativity that hung thick in the air like a choking humidity. Every once in a while I go to that area’s newspaper’s website, where negativity and hatred flow like words in the comment section, and it makes me thankful I left it behind.
   It’s Sorted Sometime Later
   At work and watching
   The custodian emptying
   Trash and recycling
   Into the same bag
   Do we recycle or don’t we?
   I always assumed we did
   I secretly suspect
   It’s sorted sometime later
   But I kinda doubt it
   Maybe they’re lazy
   Maybe it’s intentional
   Making us all into liars
   When it comes to our 
   Environmental claims
   Boasted on our website
   I think 
   “It’s not my problem,”
   Shrug,
   And get back to work
   February 3, 2012
   Northampton, Massachusetts
   Observances at work and I can’t remain silent any longer.
   Buddy
   The people you don’t,