the wreckage of my garbled thoughts
strewn rather haphazardly across a clearly
unmade bed
where once was the fabulous fall out of a most
formidable obsession
are now far too simply shrunken shards of
ill-favored grievance
sorely dissatisfied upon the completion
of their blame less birth
yet upon first view
most objectively speaking
of course
they seem rather
quite favorably arranged
I feel compelled to audibly confess
in a purely self bartering moment
a wave of gritty thankful hostility
over takes my usual analytically
creative brain
such mystic muse mourns my usual
melancholy and intensity's rage
a vague abstraction of tangled irony
so becomes this eerily elated
so very complacent I
which miraculously cloaks me in a
confidant yet somewhat airy sort of way
a forlorn flicker of my usual well sated
flair beckons me back
with a fresh, new angle
and idea
I am hearty be it
to such a faithful fisher's ploy
genuine poetry
requires great depth and care
depth of one's true self
and care for the surroundings
so abundantly abound both of which
quite naturally
I possess plenty
though I tend to ramble on
about the many mysteries in the age
still
its the endless layers of true emotion
that gather me closest to my purpose
the heart of all understanding
the meanings and the reasons
behind all intent
good, bad, indifferent
or otherwise.................
(Feb. 23, 1999)