Blogging

Rage on the turnpike of ideas
Too many vehicles speeding by
With nothing to say but movement and flight
The style of rushed escaping
So when it clogs to a crawl or a light
No one waits on something better
They only growl at the journey’s delay
Without asking why they’re going there anyway
In this loop around the familiar
Of perpetual motion machines
That express all of what they are
But hold all of who they are inside
They lose all bearings but position
They breathe exhaust out in defense
Offering noise to counter noise
In a language of combustion
The fuel of outrage, the dripping metal tongue
—This panoply weaving, these voices whose words don’t connect
But flow on relentlessly, humming as one, leaving all fixity behind
A few checked in rest stops
Mindlessly dreaming