Sonorous laughter begs
a divine argument for
neurosis.

Of the former,
tenuous hints cast
shadows on broken teeth,
the nasty back-hand,
bruises delirious.
As i write,
no small aberration from
a fathers’ abuse.
And i write,
long verse–escape–intermission…
A caesura of delusional heroes stand
between blows..
(there lies a man, half my metal),
between terse
point-blank
lines,
luxury in the macabre
machine-gun firm,
bellow in the furnace,
the whole listless and impotent
transference.

Of the latter,
cerulean skies
fields on meadow,
the tender embrace opening..
opening…opening….
this I write.