Endgame

Regard the never-ending shattering of every
foregone notion I have ever had – gathering
momentum every day: a shafting of experience
transcending good or bad which makes
presumption of assumptions: filing flicks

and dabs of them away as if they were
a baubled bangled mad array of ornament
set for some arcane holiday display: shards
of swift shenanigans to spray one day upon
a dreamy memory or phlegmy moment of a cold

when less-than-conscious seasonings make
bold to flavor sense unreasonably: full of
slapstick and ineptitude. My system runs, deploys
a wholesale bargain basement packed with rude
amendments, emendations, culled from blame

and joy and sexual abandon, hunger, satiation,
and the ever-mutant nuances of shame: questions
aren’t tolerated: answers aren’t thinkable:
unsinkable until what we might just as well
call God decides to pull the plug, make his claim.


.