Outside my window earthquakes
Underline the earth’s indigestion
In a galaxy prone to turmoil:
While inside
My brain shakes along intellectual fault lines,
A sad consequence of artistic aftershocks
A liberal dosage of Scotch doesn’t stabilize
(while dreaming of women
With wild Irish roses in pubic hair,
Still mourning
after a Rock singer’s
Suicide-death?)
Perhaps you’d smirk if you saw me
Beating time with arthritic fingertips,
While outside windows nature plays
At mimicking the hand of god
& I hear the voices of America
In that subliminal message
Steadily like a talk serum
: impenetrable static
Razors aural
Awareness in a sometimes vacuum
Of meaningful sound
The drum beats
More real
In essence everyday
Repetitions of banal speech
Ambulating through atmospheres
the blind have no say in
as they listen for truth
I eat the dead womb
of silent dreams.
