44. Ecstasy

Beaten down, we cower with our piteous things.
Greedily we hold the dishwasher and the TV
as tight as a Titanic survivor sinking in
the icy North Atlantic held the life preser
vor. In our self-made darkness we huddle
like the last survivors in San Antonio the night
of March 6. Auto-anesthetized we feed our eyes
and ears empty pictures and silent music
incessantly. Mind-neutered we read and read
again the same old, old news and wring arthri
tic hands over the way of the recalcitrant
world which persists in springing anew each year.

Afraid of sight and light and the overwhelm
ing soulfuck of pure joy, we cluck and stut
ter, "Tsk-tsk," at the loose-pelvis ant
ics of a planet which refuses to betray
its or any other youthful cries of passion.

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