gone mad fishing my sorrows...

photo by Keith J. Spencer via albanypoets.com ©

gone mad fishing my sorrows


here I am peering 
into your storefront again 
with empty pockets full of wishes 
here was where you would take me 
by the gills and turn me 
into your recital amniotic hypnosis 
which psychosis was the tune 
that would be you 
hooked into my humanity
which ghost is which here 
what can or can't you see...

the audience was under the spell 
of the dead light of stars...
you said I like your hat 
won't you carry my bags...
will you be eating me sir...

I turned to the stone masons 
in their wombs of metal and mud and said...
no I won't be...you be looking for companions 
and I be looking for a way outside myself...
there is nothing here for me anymore 
so I am closing my eyes and riding 
this particular taste 
of regret until even my bones 
give up their form to time...

am I worm food 
are you whale shit 
the bottom of the ocean 
wants to be rain 
but doesn't explain 
itself to the sky 
often enough 
do you 
do I...?

EJR ©