what galleries and museums will tell our stories...

"This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper."

T.S. Eliot 'The Hollow Men'

what galleries and museums will tell our stories...

the Goddess watches us 
scurry by playing 
 duck, duck, goose...

have all of us 
also God's children 
been turned into 
 hollow men and women...

outside my study window 
I watch another work week 
 drive me and drive by...

buses go off to school 
on a Monday morning 
other lurch diesel
automated transports 
and information streams
feed and feed off 
me and you
 and our dreams too...

are we told to 
avoid eye contact 
with games chance plays
because our humanity 
is sometimes too much
of a gambler to grace 
and spare us 
with resolute 
 spiritual change...

and because 
if we see 
a heart's content
does bleed through
will we sometimes silently 
 seed jealousy to the rain...

we can't explain why 
we might be programmed 
to hate more easily 
we just know or at least
 we think this to be true...

wormhole ocularity junctions 
will function as places 
ferreting knowledge 
of when souls passing 
each other here
wear out their futures 
in angel wings 
and demon tales
 instead of time...

this is where hearts 
beg for disorder to see
 in order to stay alive...

and even if it is 
for a second longer 
than love might 
stay inside of you 
modernity it seems 
is a Pyrrhic victory 
for the bone cages
no soul ever knew...

and this is why 
if I am ever 
in a coma 
without a poem
or a view
pull the plug 
send me home 
 too...


EJR ©