What is a man amidst a couch?
He is man
with boredom,
inspired only by idle promises
to himself, from himself (he hasn't visited his friend Jim
since he made his New Year's resolution, you know).

he is a greenhouse gaseous sunbeam,
floating always right above the clouds but
never passing through.

Sweet fantasy.
Sweet, sweet phantasmorgasmic
during-glow; surely it's true
that "Weary before,
worse after," is the way of the world.

Maybe a man's eyes turn to glue
and his brain to paper-mache;
his fingers deem a personality unworthy
out of intermittent, absent-minded rudeness.

A man's thumbs may build
quantum-theory kingdoms
where skies are crystallized and then
erased in a flash of lightning--
hear his roaring
echo with the thunder.

His Big Brother says to him,
"Submit, submit,
'cause no one gives a shit!"
damn, ass, whore, cock,
pussy, bastard, f(bleep),
guns, gangs, hatred, spite, revenge, then
imminent violence (bleep),
lewd, crude, tasteless, vulgar, nude (bleep);
because it's not at all
appropriate in this pacifistic family setting.

I need a moment.
I'm contemplating.

it sucks to that man's ass-mar--it's chronic--
but I'm telling you he missed
the allusions.

a poet amidst a couch
is not a man,
but this:
he is ensnared by the
most whimsical of bards,
and he is