There was this poem, last night, as I was drifting off
And lazy as I am, I couldn’t quite reach it with my mind,
(Hands not supporting the idea of lights on and typing).
It slipped away like a failed sneeze or empty orgasm
(When the fingers move just wrong),
Leaving me to dream…
You rip and twist
Like metal through wind blasts
Metal twisting and blasting
And not lasting.
Unclipped in gardens
Are growing brambles
Brambles thorning and growing
With vines flowing.
You slip and cracking
Glass in soapy hands
Handling glass to splintering
Sounds of breaking.
— — — -
The mirror in the dream steers me backwards
Backwards with head twisted front And the cord, the cord comes not
From belly, but back
And it trails like a tail into darkness.
Following to its beginning,
Stepping toe heel toe and wrapping as I turn
In the cord.
In the…
