Two Away days
Day 1/
Whelm it is a kind of fibre
of the brain the shifty husk
of worry boiled in pain
contrary to the laws of Newton
it
from the shoulders
rises flutters
by the ears like dandruff sighted
nearsight eye roll
clumps over-gathered
in the cornice intruding on
whatever game
I wish to be the kind of person
sluices whelm
straight down the drain
Day 2/
whoever were we
when we owned
those little spots of time
how readily we Velcro
to events to pixels
papers ventures
meant to move us
closer to an end
fighting off that
creeping monster
vacancy
the hole through which
the knowledge
chances given
climbs
ReplyDeleteAh. Sluice.
The drain.
The hole.
Ah. Exit.
Fighting.
Way down.
What a poem.