take your labs
and your specimens
remove cadavers, scalpel's, and blood

take your experiments and
failures, for
they're no matter, no mind here.

upon the mortician’s table.
(cold and metal; aluminum, I believe..)
lays a fragment of a person
who was thrown up by
Life's dry-heave.

Its she I observe
(and tinker in her brain);
trying on her linens and
hidden skeletons
thought; beliefs; theories…)

in theory.
life is a theory, no more, no less…

and when it all comes crashing
do-not-pass-go.

reborn

c r a s h
waves, like notes, take their
t o l l
on the shore of my mind...
each beat, clef, and thump of bass
rivets my spine,
and in the voice
of someone else
i find peace.

04/07/2002

Posted on 04/07/2002
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