MARCH 17, 2010
Early American iron chandelier,
Suspended overhead, exacting parent,
Whose motto is To thine own self be true--
A rebuke meaning I’ve become transparent?
Vocal hallucination, coffee cup,
Writing implements. Notes. Memory
(Involuntary). Old thoughts, new thoughts. Where
Do they plan to go in this wrecked century?
And stumbling out of bed at seven-thirty
Seared, jolted, a cut-rate resurrection, doors
Slammed on a forum I’d just left, its game,
Fend off advice from twenty counselors.
Composure slipped back in with dawn’s blue light....
Even on types universally despised
I wouldn’t wish the tenth of what has happened.
They’d all have been completely pulverized.
And what was my escape route? Facing down
Icy absurdities best not to name,
Mental and physical unease: to accept,
And bother almost no one about them.