Thursday, March 13, 2014

Existential Oatmeal

Emergence and immersion,
re-emergence – and then
slipping back for keeps

into the gruel, no less a fool.
It sleeps, this part of you
which cannot quite affirm the light –

retreats when it becomes too
clarifying. Scarifying fear shames
you with evidence you cannot

fight. It does add drama, though,
this fright. Somewhere, you can’t
remember where, your dreams

got laid away. So you got laid.
You couldn’t sway your terror.
Now there’s always urgent

reason to take flight. But then
the error: slow inveigling glop
stops you instead: you are

lead-heavy in a cauldron
full of existential oatmeal
once again, dropping into mush,

a sinking thing without the last
capacity to push: drowning
in too-facile rhyme, and time.


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