dramblings, Ma

The kind of poem one writes at 4:30 am when one has failed at sleeping...think about it -- I can't sleep. I mean, sleep is what my body does when I'm NOT trying. How tough could it be. But tonight, I have, apparently, forgotten how to sleep. So I'm taking the random half sentences and images that are floating in my head and stringing them together to make a sort of poem. Maybe, at least, it will help someone else sleep.

"Unbalanced and"

When I close my eyes awake and don't dream about
all the zoos on wheels that move through real life, and
the glass cages which keep me penned up and typed over
I can photo shop for post cards of pre viewed concurrent unevents

I see the people on the public bus burying themselves
in electronic refuges, saving the earth for future generations
to squander. They refuse to inhale as the exhaust of their own
lethargy mingles with the blue gray uncivil smoke pipe poured

The cubicle scouts and officers of the legions filing, filling
and pen ultimately fouling all lives save their own but
they don't. So they clock watch and vice virtue trying to forget that
they ever wanted anything more or could have had it

The artists who wrestle with words to sell to the first failed
musician who can't breathe his own thoughts. Where hopeless romantics
lose the romance of their first person starting with you and leave
the road and settle down and out because when it is all said and done

it already has been.