Poem: Psychic

 

Psychic

 

song in a sigh, key in a crow’s foot,

dram on the tongue

when clues spike the nose.

a nuzzle of a moment once, long ago,

when pleasure skirted a nipple and

fingertips strummed some unknown nape 

to climb summits of breath.

so many of them, 

such frolics and flocks of heart,

frivolous with the vulgar and

the mercurial, such haggles at

the soul-level under

herringbone orbits and 

clouds of Geminis

and all those other masked cog-pixies 

in an anti-clockwork, hope-bent universe.

so many mishmashes 

of tearful sense-impressions.

who could assuage them all,

or offer naked assurance?  

what purpose this jungle of  

self-winding flypapery, buzzy beggary?

so many sins.

and yet so many of them mean nothing at all.

illusions that become building blocks in towers 

of moebius-strip shame.

nothing.  nothing at all.

nothing to do save sever the threads, go blank,

dispel the meddlesome back to their wanders irretrievable,

back to where they wander to fritter and fret 

so obsessed with crime.

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10/26/25 .. awful poem, ... tried to fix

6/23/24 brutally chopped up and refigured

12/24/22 lots of mods ... sad... still not right

9/27 "such" replaces "their"

9/17 ... desperate continuous edits... 

9/16 ... more changes to this product of mania

9/16  ... changes continue to the original abomination ... 

9/16  major changes to original poem, tossing out whole sections ... gutting the rest ... absolutely awful poem to have posted ... might still be awful, can't really say, brain so muddled