ionosphere

O spinning wheel of my mistakes, splashyparade of my charlatan past selves. This splitin my skull might never mend. Stitchesof the prior evening find flame, eruptand take a dark cold hold of my hand. Behind the shock-orange of my shut eyelids,neon words strobe, in a crookedscribble, repeating: What have I donelast night? What have I…

Clouds hang unmoving in the windlesssky. The one tree just waits. Appalledat the asphalt. Taken aback by the baldlie. All joking aside, it’s a menace. My desk hulks like a boulder in the officeupstairs, accumulating tasks. Wiredfor work and work alone. Yet here I cower,limbs limp, a heart-sleeved mislaid puppet. That is to say: The…