I am drawing a blank
This white space sneers back at me
An indomitable beast salivating at the cacophony that
surrounds
Unquenchable, how it delights in this exercise
Counting the movement of air
My breath spills with a hiss from pluming nostrils
The overhead fan circulates unidentifiable moments in
time
A batter swings his stick on the screen
Flying out to left
McClure was fired by the Red Sox today
A lost season taints this endeavor
Peeling the fabric of sound
It’s surrounding layers chortle
A television, fan, dishwasher, pc
Endless is seems
How I long for the woods
A Whitman scene would be my repose
Have I caught a blank
In my spacious mitt of scribble
Simply by surrendering to the changeless ethos
That is a life of marked attention disorder
Amplified by our modern apparatus.
No comments:
Post a Comment