“My heart is haunted by…”
She was bearing her soul
I was chewing up the scenery
Drunk on her watermelon scent
And how she breathed like spring, to me
What melancholy mystery
She whispered secrets gingerly
Remember when they locked us in separate chambers
And made us exchange notes through desperate aisles
You were a chinese room experiment
I was a turing test twist-cabled
“You’re not listening to me,” are you?
She looks so lovely when she chides me
I’m too abandoned in her presence
Could I but bare to hear the signal
You don’t know what love is
She tells me, precognition
Before I go off into my speech about how
Being in her presence is the depths of love
I drown to process server systeming
If I were some taskmaster
I’d close the process that thinks your
Half hearted reverie
Is the dream we have together
While I sit pouring this glass for one
Of a contemplation
Half-remembering
A tuned in channel we could turn on
And like that I snap the dial
And understand the lack of meaning
I am a lost stream of mingling
Staticky and racing nowhere, coiled
With all the rocks that beat my hearing,
Feeling, senses into smooth less caring
I am the digital child of a space age rocket
Lurch Drag on ing fire breath while her lips sit cooling
On the ledge of a thousand mile tower
With her window sill growing recyc piss drunk flowers
Wondering why the sky is bleeding
If a heart be haunted–
Does that mean a ghost lives by feeling?
Does it mean the spectral realm that underwrites the world
Is emotion powered dreaming?
Does it mean the flipside of the coin, material, of Being…
Is the zone of lost life, death, and living end spiritual
Fleeting?
Can a heart fill with more than blood, re-oxygenating, beating to the parts, are needing?
Does the creature of THE WORLD fill the need
Of a Vessel to bring SEETHING?
Should I, when she asks a dumb childish boy
“Why are you smiling?”
Go dumb and freeze, my lips go slack,
Or should I stand, and lead?
Sing?
The Haunted Typewriter 