MY SOLILOQUY
Is it ego-centric
to pray for sanity�s refrain,
thunder and lightening,
floods and rain enough
for simple words
to float from our tongues
again,
or am I lost
in the multi-syllabic drone
of pundits and politicians
with soft hands
and gossamer masks
no one hears in the din
of belching Detroit steel
out on the street?
There are so many now
going somewhere, spending
whatever ground
concrete cannot contain,
so many ways � yet
no way out of town.
Perhaps it is just
the early stages of senility
clinging to old things
like sycamores or the creek
etched beside a pictograph
of a coyote watching
from as close as he dare.