Wednesday, March 27, 1996

THE OTHER SIDE


On the other side of my heart 
there's a riverbed that lost its way,
seeking egress while I sleep. 
I wake exhausted, drowning in unborn images,
seeking a perfection of words 
in a translated world of incomplete thought
littered with random meaningless things.

The gypsy guitar is more articulate 
than all the imprisoned pens 
in yuppie briefcases, 
but this is the age of laptops.

I too have been guilty 
of keeping company 
with my warm PowerBook, 
displacing the fireside cat, 
we can no longer can afford 
the luxury of fireplaces,
trading them for thermostats 
and controlled environments. 
No time to get close to the elements.

I've never told anyone how I 
once dragged my computer to the hot tub,
despite the fear of electrocution 
or peacock feathers sprouting from my screen.

This wounded lover lost in fruitless daydreaming. 
I felt like Marat Sade composing in his bath, 
you know that painting by Jacques Louis David, 
where he's frozen in that moment in time.
Where we see him naked, and forever dead.


27 March 1996
Alexander Valley School
slightly revised for clarity 12/16

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