i'm all ears

i.

Did ya notice my ears this morning?
They're growing points.
Dr. Spock has been meddling in my affairs
again;
just when I needed a friend,
Bukowski pisses on me
with
another god-forsaken poem
about what truth is
in the dark well
of inhibition,
Cheerios is not the breakfast of champions,
eating the poisoned apple is
nothing is logical
in fairytale land
and what's the point
between the vacuity of mind
when the crisis of identity
is free-falling
into another dimension
and the Age of Aquarius
is drowning in the Sea of Pisces;

the fish are flying
with angel wings
and poems are circles within circles.

ii

we were right as rain after all,
40 years ago,
wanderers in the same desert
en route to nowhere
along the silk route.
carving blocks of nothing
that became boats
we cast adrift on the seas
of our epiphanies

we are flower children
who knew better
than to stomp the perfection
of even a single weed
growing between the asphalt
cracks,
no matter how many acres
of homegrown grass
we pulled from our teeth,
that became forests
through which
we lost ourselves
once in awhile,
once too often

we are cracks on a division bell,
ringing in our ears like the
eternal Om

we are light as clouds
moving over the surface of earth,

fast-moving shadows, gone beyond
but not yet,
not yet.


iii.

we are prisoners
inside this chain of events
free falling sunshine