Neuropathic thrips

 

 

 

While cleaning out a drawer I found

a dream placed in the universe in 2005/ free

yet adinterim like those pop-lockers on

Soul Train who went vertical. Dreams more

existence under the conditions of environment now,

more ethereal than amalgamation. A dream that

showed that cunning tendency towards adaptation

rather than anything diversified, and Darwin

take no credit for this observation. Dreams grow

old, fall out of sight, break apart like clouds

over Namibian skies,

 

like Chinese, plaster figurines of dogs kneeling

or large flightless birds you topple, and it's cheating

if you've taken a photograph because now there is

this link between light and variance, that thing the

love poets do to make you feel that there was some

meaning somewhere, just hidden under socks

and Hanes medium tee shirts  you uncover the

treasure of. A dream you place in any universe

is henceforth to be considered late payment which

you will be charged a delinquency fee of lesser than

5% or 5 trillion neurons of life force of whatever

remains left after dignity's duty.

 

I can imagine a woody heaven. A glib, bright

talkative place, that is, if you can scratch off

the crustose, the linchens that hold onto rock

and landscapes; I am.

You could crawl back to the lonesome child of

the 60's too. That is if you can love like I love.

Subscribing to that poem-of-the-day nemesis.

That eeriness of empty, more-or-less, wandering rooms.

No different than leaving stick pins in your coat pockets;

Blood will forever mean, you have something

this second,

to do.

Reviews

[K. Louis]

my ex lover described these spiders in her brain-- later, diagnosed with bi-polar disorder after the death of her father. she said he use to have the itch too and that they shared it. Anyway, I like how you work the physiological in with the philosophical...and as always, I learn something...like the soul train "pop-lockers!" Lol too cool. thanks for sharing, Dana. really enjoy tumbling your words around in my head.

[writing mojo]

There is peace of pieces, here..no longer puzzled in close looks, just after life becoming one with ever after flights universal ...keep letting it out dear friend..not for our amusement but for the sake of being closer and closer to the moments...