15,922. IN THE NAME OF SENSATION

IN THE NAME OF SENSATION 

In the name of sensation, the sling-bar

slices. And I have little to do. I remain

confused. Hitting so many wrong keys,

I can hardly type a meaningful sentence

without doing it twice.

-

If I go away, they'll say I fled. If I stay

right here, they'll say I'm dead. What's

the difference between them? It's already

been said.

-

The ice here remains ice, even at forty 

degrees in the afternoon; which only

lasts for a while and then drops to cold

again. That flat expanse of water may 

groan in March and April, and snap

and crack too, but now in January it

simply stays put. No movement, no

shrink. That's OK, it's quiet as a mouse.

-

In the name of sensation, we get noise, 

and clamor, petty disagreements and 

rumbles. Men who should know better

wear their psychological clothing inside

out. We get to see the results, and laugh.

-

I guess I can make it, somehow, through

all this slog. I'm sleeping too much, and

that I don't like; this healing, for me, is

like an arrow through my foot.