Ouroboros, 2004

in collaboration with Cory Brock

 

Across a day lit ground divine,

sliding by, and makes no sound,

a serpent sent by time goes round.

Through windowsills and down dark

halls,

on the ceilings, on the walls—

on the lamps, and in the attic,

a hiss the sound of TV static,
As by it goes, it’s fluid motion.

Ouroboros eats itself, and chokes,

and the serpent’s time revoke,

left to circle in its head,

with no more day lit ground, instead,

the serpent grows two legs, and stands,

on two feet, so he can greet,

life’s phantom caravan.

 

The taste of fear, and long held dreams,

digested turns to nightmare screams.

The monster in all closets,

live inside our head.

He’s there for life, and whispers fright,

his purpose nothing else;

the monster in the closet is the self.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s