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Yesterday

I lost myself on the

Hollywood swing

of widescreened

bewilderment

my desire

was zapping

though dawn

with a restless

curiosity to

pin-point freedom

while the inner

eye vision

was fractured

in excitement

so vast I became

unbearable

to a soft spoken

question unleashed

asking repeatedly:

“why does it never

stop to go down

the drain;

pictures of postcards

and presents of love past?”

the answer is me

as I rest at the shore

of my own speechlessness

tracing the river’s

twirling ecstasy

not through reflection

any longer but by

my wet mouth alone

through which

the question drank me out

and wonders now

blind drunk

what is left

     ∞