Rush

Flipping and tipping the now dripping ink the

Blotter runs through the thought comes unglued

So stripping and ripping the paper falls down

The wastebasket fills with the artists old news

While the table is etched over with lines

Broken for meanings the poet once knew

But now running together so fast

He turns and they are

Gone

Dripping and tripping the inkwell mind

Slipping and dipping the needle back into the ink

Before another line, another spine twists into

Neural epiphany, ecstasy as it is born

Born in twelve font times new roman

To a one inch margin world

The letters build its skin grows in needles and pins

While he sews with his fingers licking

The keys on the keyboard

Ticking a tempo a tropospheric romp

An upper brain amalgam of ideas and rhymes

While ducking and diving that demon allegory

The prizefighter writer’s screen a new scene

Of self-exploratory text a what’s next whodunit

With no real answer beyond the music he loves

To write to at ten-twenty seven at night

With the lights low and the room full of the smell

Of her.

The smell in the wood walls

Termite memory burrowing deeper in the

Creature feature the monster hides in the closet

Or under the bed, never in the poet’s head to leap

From the cerebral cortex onto the stage and to finally

Act his age and court her, go over and say hi

Before the time was nigh and noon rang with laughter

instead of a gunslinger’s bullet productions

the seduction of a revolver bed full of lead dreams

turning and twitching the minute hand moves again

and the whole world snores at his antics

semantics she said, the worlds a stage and

the mask lied about vaudeville.