compbook 04.29.06

now's a different time
not just a line
with arrows moving your eyes to the next sentence,
the next thought
putting it prim, proper and in place
upon that pavement parked
but in drive
and
forward is fine and
a sublime way of thinking
with fresh air and stale radio
.
but for a change
the gear (nice and slow)
moves behind the face of time
.
which suddenly is strangely sinking
winking like a waxing moon on a night where
all the candles burn down
instead of being blown out
.
late,
writing a lyric in which to sing
.
revising
.
reversing,
reverse engineering
pulling in
.
reverse
.
the need for sleep is wearing on me
and unweaving my every stitch
.
but yawn is caught
and cough is brought
from in out of the cold
.
with throat taut and eyes burning - blinking wider and wider
like drunken carousel horses spinning off their axis
.
off their rocker hangs the wedding dress in the attic
.
but I'm downstairs
.
with the
grandfather clock, grandfather's watch
.
at the end of the hall,
against the wall, deep within this keep
the drawer of a now lonely nightstand,
under the weight of a lamp now never lit
.
all these things i see seem to be broken
or at least not working
overtime
.
these lazy things are still here though,
loitering about
.
in a castle whose shelter doesn't sleep,
whose warmth works through the shift
that dares to trespass midnight and even
cross three ay em
.
these are tough characters to run up against
but the ashlar holds it together
.
never complaining, condemning
or even collecting a wage
.
meanwhile
gets meaner
.
and i sleep
at last,
at the very least
.
i get just one day's rest
for all the month of april
.
1²