Saturday, October 10, 2009

568. MAL DE MER

MAL DE MER
After so long I am charmless,
and dizzy, mysterious and lost.
I can't turn around without hitting
myself. In trying to look up now, the awful
dispersal of time and its days drops me back
to bedlam - some wicked sort of dismay -
a distraction I can never place. I sleep
among my figments and imaginings; truly
my very own Hell. Looking up, lethargy
paints its sky with a crimson color only
fiery clouds and pits of disaster know.
Somehow the dead know the dead in the
same fashion as the living know others
living. Alas, I know neither; neither
one nor the other know me.
-
In trying to look up,
in looking up, I
am nowhere.

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