Where Is The Walkman After The Apocalypse?

I am alkaline, the

Inexorable chase.

Moss-pitted, I sit unused,

Regal head slotted to one side

And in all the fantasy chase

Science;

I chase Science

With all the fury of darkness

With all the ease

With all the--

Oh, Science! I am

Alkaline

Antediluvian

Anthropomorphic--

Chemistry on two legs,

Sonorous note to the dim tide,

You listen!--

In Stockholm once

Did I writhe under your aim

Did I sit while you bore--

I long again to be held fast,

For water to pour out my side;

Tremendously used, I shall expire.

Science, what did you do those

Three days?

In the moment I blinked,

You were gone.

Left me--

Mephistopheles.

-Boulder

November 1996

The Viewless Wings of Poesy

I confess that I have a very great love for poetry. My most frequent method of expressing love for something being to mangle it, I have decided to post some of the poems I've attempted over the years. Most of these have never seen the light of another's eyes, nor were meant to, so they are most likely mealymouthed affairs that don't say much at all.

Still, I'm cleaning out my closet.