a static dervish on TV,
whirling around the centuries
like a pulp-vampire, a fucked clock.
Go mad, go sane, go in-between,
yo-yo between night-dreams, day-dreams,
and "doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before".*
Go Edgar Allan Poe me, he
could deconstruct, reconstruct me
into some new monstrosity
other than this, the current one.
Away! Bang new sounds from the drum
made of my skin, lung-hollowed, strum
new sounds from my guts and RED RUM
the ghost who lives in the machine.
Away! Away 'til kingdom come,
don't like this, want another one,
a rising, not a setting, sun
waiting it out for the repeat.
Away! curtain proscenium
glimpses of the tragedy Man
between nether darknesses, scan
the data for anomalies.
*Please Note: The basic consistency of the syllabic structure.
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