Wednesday, April 7, 2021


Dionysus the Menace
     rummages through 
                         the wires,
Holding tight to the life force
     that wants to die --

It spills out the sad times
     from the numbness
                         and sanities
Beyond any victories
                         of vanity.

It lays out there for us to feel,
       as though we weren't 
As though such pain,
               such beauty,

     was not allowed.
We look around as our
               jaws drop
To make sure we don't get 

The primal wail of why-o-me
      has only a thin professional 
As if the whole facade
               will disappear

In a burning gyre of tears
      insatiable to escape,
Yet also to reach there
               once and for all,
      the place of expression 

Where the accounts 
               are settled
And the truth can 
                            just be said
Without the blinding shadow

Of the distant other instead,
     whose gaslight tortures
                 are innocent in the end.
The wail can't be stopped
      in the infinite need

To be understood, though one
                              never will be,
      only loved, in its way,
Which makes the spirit play 
                              to slay,

The body's strings
      in endless bend and sway
                 to shake and swing
The demons that were never there

To be free, they say,
      but that's not what it is at all --
It's loneliness we cannot bear,
      we want to share the emptiness,
                  but it's not there.