My feelings neglected
my ambition rejected
my aptitude
my attributes
washed + eroded
covered with pondslime
the rubblestone
at the bottom of the bank
the ceaseless turn
of the labour crank +
the 24hr clock
the ad hoc
the mismatched
paper files glued
to make new meaning
redefine the feeling
the reeling-in
the peeling sin
the wall-paper-walls
stained with undemocracy
beltsand it all
kick the sober to the curb
kick the drunk into the
death-hopeless oblivion
bubbling like seawater
termites on the horizon
I feel you
I did woodwork
I'm wood
working on the me
of my soul
like a statue
or a bust
of undefinable trust
what is this dust +
why do I find it everywhere
is that my concern
that is that
that's that
an empty hat
the rabbit
the white wonder
gone walking
I'd do my trick
but the voice ain't talking
the shouterman
on my skull-stool
who fingerweaves my
beautiful tango
tapdance poetry
had his throat slit +
still alive but
won't talk
won't perform
his tender psalm
I've heard him
communicate in
whistles
but you cannot
fit them on the page
I'm in a rage
at this plastic +
disposable age
where the poemsongs
are empty +
not held high
not brushed with twinkling
twilight no connection
with the starry sky
a meaningless endeavour +
yet I do
I do endeavour
I do go on
I'm showing you
just what I can do
or what you can too
when you
+ that is you
stop out of time
of the winged chariot
and make a
peaceful silence
all around
the bedroom is
your holy ground +
the litany you carve
with empathy
the tragedy
or comedy
can resonate
through
your eardrums +
out into
the world
