Jan
Déluge
hectic steps to no music
splattering sounds of a dancer
gone mad against the cement.
the sky falling fast
cascading thoughts erratic
glistening constellations
rippling the sidewalk.
news flashing a flood of visions
inside devises raining hard reality.
trees vanishing outside
above the abundant parking meter
monuments anchored in place
raised to commemorate the masts
of sunken ships.
no need to believe any of this
but this wooden vessel in a storm
once washed aground drowning
in a wreckage of tar-fueled cement.
an original venture aborted
still born into a restaurant.
passengers stranded at bar stools
drinks in hand harboring insatiable appetites.
the crew cursing up and down
carpeted ramps unable to stop serving.
the captain shouting commands
but looking as lost and guideless
as an outdated map.
flat concepts & serpent worries
no treasures discovered lately
to balance the budget.
a problem for a prophet
going to extremes
to find a reason why.
sirens screaming in my ears
same haunting tune
hard to think we are all prisoners
right off the freeway.
someone told me no good scripts
left to direct us out even
with all the signals signs arrows lines
hieroglyphic graffiti
indicating what?
each mind an indecipherable galaxy
each body a planet to explore
each soul a lonely tenant in a tenement
destined to collapse and be
nevermore therefore
do we stop believing
this existence we are constructing
wiser than insect architecture
held together by sheer will
will guide us like a north star
to any new destination
better loved and understood
than a sphinx
god?
—