PRIVACY BEDLAM

I never wanted things my way.

The sound of rain pelting the sand

Meant more to me

Than any accolade or disgrace.

I was no Andy Warhol, painting portrait series of Russell Means––

I’m thinking of the one

In grey, black, white, and silver

Hanging in the Denver Museum of Art.

Many a reality have I suspended,

Running this government of molecules.

When I was an infant, snakes danced for me.

Garlands of letters flashed in rapture.

Whatever controversy the hour brings forth,

The sacredness of the world

Strips away the last sense of security––

The loneliness that enmeshed you

In pointless and lifelong struggle.

7 July 2010