Saturday, January 03, 2015

The Things They Talk About Instead

"Wrecked is the ship of Pearl
and every chambered cell..."
Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Chambered Nautilus

the things they talk about instead
could madden even seraphim
the livelong day, on office breaks

or on the train.
the things they think
while continents of clouds

shift over them.
and in the nightingale hollows still
there is warbling, bittersweet

of who, oh who
will these technocracies appease
when all reality swirls into a screen?

 drop by drop the honey distills
the crimsoned trees unleaf and
still they gripe, they curse, and snipe

bedgrudge each other
for the clothes they wear
each owning imperially (they dream)the right to be right
the cars they drive

the mansions each one trendier
than the last with an inclusive emptiness.
still, fleeting are their gated worlds

though parquet floored in the vestibules
with all the amenities, golden fauceted.

oh you may knock on the rarest of woods
or on the noggin of Pinnochio
going forward into the wilderness
with your 5 year goals, your

concert interview readiness not to hear the music ever-
only to be seen against no proprietary backdrop of The End:

of rainbows plunging
violet-first, into the Sea...

mary angela douglas 3 january 2015