Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

postulating the availability of a microvisionary outlook at 11:14p.m.


like organic alfalfa honey

spilled on a cold concrete floor

i no longer move -


the doors have been sealed with comfort

and the mechanical noises outside

stay there -


polyvisual television screams

thru the muted button

worn from the race to silence -


i sunbathe in the nude

under candlelight of hush

counting binary geckos

seeking a live meal

fed digitally one bit at a time ~


my voice mimicking a keyboard

splintered by jackboots of thought

running loose from my fingertips

reinterpreting santini's black cape

into six twirling dervishes screwing

on a fake persian carpet from mexico.


i no longer choose a path

but opt for deep sleep dreams

at one with my throaty snore.


_____!____
Cecil B. Lee

after the medication
before the REM
within the twilight zone
where we process the day
thoughts run amok like
new born colts all leggy
and determined to revel
in the pasture with promise
we never count sheep
they are followers, we count
shooting stars

Gracias, amigo!