Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

lost in the footnotes, in the appendices,
in the mist that obscures knowledge
the gray light, the ancient blur
of imprecise definition
the headlights are of no avail, the streetlights
minor cadences in the smothering rhythm
of a wet chill winter, the season long
a season of cocoons and wandering, scavenging
a season of suggestions and doubts
doubts as to the questions, the right questions

the mud is oozing out of the once frozen barrens
look how it bubbles and moves
across the plains, oh so like lava
this irrational emotion
and it comes from the sky too
it drizzles on oak, on fence, on tract
of ploughed, of scarred, of chemically-poisoned land
look how all the questions, all the syllogisms fail
chaos has dominion over science
over the business of this world, over the armies
and the vanity of this world
all letters, all numbers, all humanity
the faces, the kisses, the baring of teeth
are swallowed in the darkness of the universe

chaos indeed, it makes little sense to attack your own eco-system, yet we do

well some of us, with the mega-weapons of capital

the poem in my mind suggests there will never be enough light to illuminate the faces of madness, they are black shadowy ghouls that lurk in the black holes
of time..........and our civilization is a flea on a giant's ass.....

in any case, I really enjoyed it....nice to see you posting around here again.....