"Vale," "Wurlitzer," and "Solipsis ellipsis or: The Circular Runes"

Vale

The days pass by anonymously. I have lost track of time. Whatever part of my mind it is that writes poetry has turned to jelly. I scratch at it. My claws sink in but I find nothing solid. I go outside, to stand naked under the full moon. I dare not shout out at it for fear the neighbors will hear me & call the police. The owls do not come, the cat deserts me, the fruit-bats are too busy squabbling in the mango tree to pay any attention. I am embarrassed at how small I am in the pale light. Trains go by in the distance, diesel- &/or electric-powered. No longer any steam. An icon of childhood gone forever. I try to move. My emphysema betrays me. The jelly in my head leaks out from my eye-sockets. Drawn to it, the owls finally arrive. I do not see them leave.

Wurlitzer

A jukebox im-
planted in the
mind. Organic. Full
of mnemonic pop
songs that, aug-
mented by place
or space or shared
experience, have
 
a greater depth
than their origi-
nal release. An
association — until
the jukebox fails.
Then a melancholy.

Solipsis ellipsis or: The Circular Runes

This is about
me. If you appear
it is oversight,
an errant imagining
easily fixed by
a simple find &
replace command
where you are
the one replaced
& I am found
to be the product
of someone else’s
erratic imagination.