Inside Our Brains and Otherwise
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
We lie in darkness with our souls agog,
The midnight hours and those beyond, until
We wake to ho hum stuff. We rise as mog
And not as tiger. Daylight lives are spill,
The aftermath and not the action, mess
On sacramental linen tablecloth.
Our dreams and nightmares knock away the chess
Maneuvers minds might plan. An Ostrogoth
Puts swordblade through the guts of Roman priests
And turns to see the fleeing pope and then
We find ourselves in chintz instead of beasts
In bourgeois bedrooms lacking rape-cocked men.
We drift along in realms of stabbed out eyes
