PROPHECY AND IDLE TIME


Dawn rips open
the book of days again...
clouds wander, admiring their shadows on the earth,
waters rush or trickle,
moutains sigh in the same places...


I awake to myself once again,
open mindmade doors,
bring the images of life into focus...
yet the sounds are too bright,
the sun's existence too cruel to be real...


and silent space disturbs me, screaming
minutes shoving me in one direction
leave me stunned in the shower...
the stream on my neck beating
some numbing answer into the skin I've stolen
for my own,
beads of truth on my back
breaking and rolling away from my grasp...


songs left in my skull by the radio,
being able to hear myself think,
voluntary muscle control,
do-it-yourself orgasms,
a drunken, shrunken friend screaming, "I'm a CHRISTIAN, God DAMN IT!" to the cops...


anything real...

these leave me...
prophesizing of nothings to come




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about the poem: it's how i feel sometimes...i just get stunned for periods of time, when life seems unreal....the background pic was chosen because of that thought...the pic just looks unreal to me...life bigger than life, i suppose....ghastly

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