These days

So many  things
Are bobbing to the
Surface such colour
Flashes such bursts of
Pain, such insane
Longings converge collide
Crowd  my mind  there is
No room  - it's as if
This time is a
Culmination of all
That has been I am
Becoming an amalgam
Of each scene being
Re-enacted again and
Again -
Such  subterranean
Vaults of the mind
Have  no business in the
Real world they make me
Blind with too much sight
I bind myself
To the absurd
To what  is not
Real -
How  to seal the
Breach how  to
Seal myself off
From  the reaches
Of the arms
Of the past
How  to fast on a
Diet of the here
And now  where
Only crusts and water
Follow the trail of
The plough
To dry and fallow
Lanes of quiet light.

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