deuil rampant

this whole damn thing
has me on my belly
be it worm, snail or rattler
too much the tattler, that last one
scare them off with
a watering can or hose
stomp your foot and yell
"fuck off"

one does not normally hear
morning glory subtly trail
wrapping wiry legs around
other leaves frail or
trunks of hearty trees
But tonight, my love
morning glory is loud enough
to pick my brain apart

a roly-poly jolly babe
makes her way from room
to room, cute little buglet
four-kneed and giggling like crazy
she rolls over on her back in
uncontrolled cackles (w/ tears!)
and moms and dads join in
shut the door on
that ricochet of laughter
it's not what I'm after

zombies break through
crusty earth forms
breaking brittle bones
creaking and rotting
beneath rocky soil
too much sound from
the long-gone tonight in
this, my empty head
they can eat me when i'm dead
tell them to shut up until then

is that a sound I hear in
my bloodless veins? not
bloodless enough i guess but
hot purple and sluggish
break off the arteries like
brittle twigs in winter
cut off the capillaries
and cast them off for the
noiseless wolves, and if
a wolf barks, shoot him

green stripe cavorts with
with flowing orange swatch in
rock-and-roll nightmares
steam crawls from whistling
kettles, comforting catch phrases
sent home by singing telegrams
rows of dead windows
black and heavy, beaten
by hurricane-force gales

no more exacting rhymes
no bells, no telephones
no calling cards no big bonjours
no gorgeous blond muses
no grunting muscle men
no new verses of poetry tonight
no elegy or romantic jaunt:

you're dying
and the thought of it
screams in my ears
too much sound in
in my crawling tears