Speaking of cranky, I guess those who would prefer the poems to hide behind the cut tags feel strongly about it! Although I've only heard one vote in that direction (the current tally is 2 for "as things are" and 1 for "behind the cut tag") I have been hearing repeated strong suggestions for the latter pretty much every time I bring the subject up! Now, were I to keep up the pace that I have managed thus far THIS month (7 poems in 10 days) I'd be back at 21/month, 250/year ... which is a lot to be trotting out in front of everybody, I suppose.
Actually, getting the poem below done took "extraordinary means" ... I had to run out to get something to wrap #2's new tricycle (a real spiffy "retro" re-issue of the classic old red metal, steps-in-the-back Radio Flyer!) in and invest WAY too much money in various Valentines Day cards (I needed 2 for the girls, one each for The Wife and my Mom, plus I needed 2 each for the girls to give to their Mom and Nana, etc.), so I found myself at the Walgreens at Divsions & Dearborn at 7:00pm or so ... I have not been investing a lot of $$$ in "amusement coffee" recently (for the obvious reasons), but I opted to slide into the Starbucks across the street from there for a Venti Caffe Mocha and bit of scribbling time. Man, I will be SO happy when spending $4 on a coffe does not seem like an extravagance! Bleh ... this being broke stuff really sucks. Ah, but though I am poor in liquid assets, I am rich in already-composed poems, they are lightly guarded in the vault at http://i.am/btripp ... should you want to go run your fingers through them!
INTO UNIVERSAL NIGHT
rattling through the excess,
wheels spinning
within wheels,
transcribing inner trauma
beyond the formal known;
suffering here dreamless
but for the looming
nightmare side
that is the hidden,
that is the bane;
none touch that reality,
none believe
the depths its blades incise,
only we endure this,
only we feel
the million lines that bleed
too many states here
overlapping,
there is no focus
nor solid real,
all flux and fluid,
all shift and slide,
momentary realignments
and temporary dawns
no wonder there's no plan,
no wonder there's no base;
we tumble down through chaos,
never sure of where,
never sure of what,
only vaguely still the who
within the center point,
target of all knives
dysphoric currents smother,
malicious worlds arise,
there is nothing
marked as exit,
there is nowhere
safe for flight,
only endless downward spirals
into universal night
- Brendan Tripp
02/10/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
