Whoopee, new material!!
(New poem, but old frustration... to anybody who can suggest
a cure for chronic empty brain syndrome, I'll revere you forever.)
This one is very short. Just a first attempt to get something out while the brain is trying not to cooperate.
I wake in stupor, half-past ten,
and carry still a sleepless dread.
What is missing, but my head?
I find it -- empty, yet again.
My buzzing stomach wants for breakfast,
only to quiet the yapping maw;
the parched brain croaks for satiation --
if just for knowledge in a straw.
And once the desperate thirst expelled
I hope to clutch, absorb, retain,
as in desert sand does water sink;
though here as oil is repelled,
then vanished in a wink.
With each push, fatigue and fog resists
as a stubborn horse kicks when taken to drink,
and the last hollow drop is dried in boxed-up books and hardened ink;
all I want's a chance at being, before it's dissolved in a blink,
For the love of all that's in my heart:
I just want to bloody think.
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