An Improbable Delirium

An improbable delirium brings me to the jack pines with their vile peeling bark, roots sprouting on the outside of granite, their twisted branches

half-gnawed, thus in the sea breeze they murmur as they batter and withdraw, before swaying like a plane that misses a runway,

brushing above the forest, scaring everyone with that chalk-on-blackboard unhurt the scorched half-syllables of calamitous pain.

Something run overs me it's the job of numbers to bring some wretched character on the outside on stage, to gesture wildly, giving a soliloquy

we carry with us to the sea, the sea that absorbs us.and wants us to forget where we came from, that high-pitched

chop and froth turgid surges that stir the obscure surface into ebony. There's something cobalt about us,

not just squalid, clouded bedraggled: Someone had to teach us to be timorous, naked and throbbing as a jellyfish,

but les translucent, more transparent. Until the extremity when we're indecipherable, composed, seraphic, speechles

Copyright World poesy Incorporated Jul/Aug 1997

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