Driving Without A Map

In memory of Paul de Man

Down Progress Lane, a dead-end cul-de-sac,
I heard misappropriated birds
Teased by understanding into words
The monster in my heart was made to hear

Beyond the static surface, what's inside
Left disturbed, uninured...firmed into block chords,
Melody pieces, archetypal rhymes
Brought to dream-state hell, without judgement.

I drift to the brake with jaw ajar,
Shut eyes bring massive scenes of vines and clinging,
But opened things are clear, open, pastel blue.