Saturday, September 6, 2008


"No time to stare at you right now."
No space for eyes, no room to look.
Cannot glance up.
Eyes drag themselves across the book...

I saw that somewhere else before.
That movement, creeping on the line.
Stumble and
rhythmic heart beat'
s anesthetic sign...

Remembered. Ant that crossed the rug.
Frustration, male and angry haste.
Crushed but not killed.
I watched it crawl across the carpet's waste...

Frustration is a bumpy word
To crawl across, at best of times.
I stopped its agony unheard.
Cream polyester.
Black punctation dot to end the lines.