the hour of barking madness,
long ere the coming of the dawn
to sleep now would be folly
oh but to await the sunrise…
this floating space and time
of going nowhere fast
the mind disposes of
thoughts and ideas
dreams and memories
forking, twisted paths
turning inward upon themselves
like Ouroborous eating his own tail
there are no answers
except for the one we already know
the rest of it is just filling in the blanks
the city that is no city
that is a place I may only visit
in the darkness
with my eyes shut
we take the train into the city center
though of course forgetting that there is no center
only the periphery is real
and we spin about on Joseph's constructed merry-go-round
seeking that ivory tower
the phallus stretching up into the sky
that God tore down, scattering us to the four winds
and all we're left with is some psycho-babble
some half remembered doggerel
about penises and tongues and the unforgivable hubris of
trying to reach heaven
I dream of voices in the Oort cloud
stirring
and I wonder about all the things in this universe
that remains unseen
all the things that are seen, but we do not understand
living on this tiny rock
spinning around a little poof of starlight
that could wink out in an eyeblink
as far as the universe was concerned
we are, ultimately, little children playing at high drama
mutilating and killing each other
for some paltry trinkets
trying to ignore
the long, lonely darkness staring at us through the night sky