david jewell poet

.

. . . or else waiting again, inside the soundwave, to hatch another elephant of sleepless emotion.

it was all a bunch of hoopla and hornswoggle if you ask me, but something was cooking

between these ears, in my so called brain, home of my so called mind,

(my mind that seldom minds me, seldom goes where I tell it to go, often goes where

I tell it not to go, but my mind will stray, away away)––

and so, malarky or no malarky, my neurons were having a party, and it was loud-loud-loud,

until someone called the cops, and I took another sleeping pill, to still the lava flow of the

downloading memory-options, and life-re-writes, and future-visions of where-to-be other than

here-and-now scenarios, taking a powder-room break while thinking even louder, yawning with a

shiver or, uh, mental-quiver of existential what’s-it-to-ya, and why-I-oughtta paradigms. . .

ahem. . .

as I was saying… the elephant of sleepless emotion hatched inside the lava-neurons spilling into the ocean,

around three in the morning…. and the next thing I remember another year went by. bye. buy.

b-bye.

admin  Dec 22 Poetry