Kablooey

Is there no waiting? –
or is waiting all there is?

(Wumdy-waddy-wumdy-wizz.)

This business of “the moment”! –

where’s the explicating rhyme? –
the doom-defying reason?
Bees and birds
appear to do
just fine
by instinct
and the grace
of chance:
why are my pants antsy?

Tell the truth.
They’re not.

Lately I’ve been thinking that the rot
is not so much that I don’t think
I’m doing what I ought to do
but that I do not
openly exalt
what I am always
secretly
exalting.

My greatest shames
confound around
my many loves that dare not
speak their names.

I tell lies
when I apologize.

So here’s the facts at last.
this life is one big blast:
fresh-and-screwy.
The natural condition
of the soul’s kablooey.

.