umming and ahhing

And it isn’t caustic here,
and the objective of this clatter is to knit together three winks
and cause them to knot into a single daydream
with more tangles than the humdrum cracks in the walls,
which otherwise make a lot of dust;
I mean that my everyday case of bewilderment is
outmaneuvered by this din, or estranged for a breather,
and so I am suspended transiently, looking away from ahead
in the speck of spice in which I imagine vanilla people beige,
idlers for whom the prescribed is a pleasant metaphor
on which to hang
your hat, knot your tie, bring others coffee and,
reflect upon later, with stillness; the placidity of lesser meds.
And I might mouth the words, that although this roaring
has both a crescendo and chorus,
these are not entirely well sung;
at the end I expect that it will repeat, sequentially round
come what will, nails chipping, bangs growing, knees dirty


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