an early morning poehm

bass line thumpings and cracked glass
press my thoughts forward
the book on my desk, som money, music and dried frosting--
these slip away faster than they should,
like the stapler they are real but still memories
lost in a swirling world of questions.

I used to think that answers lay bubbling
skimming the surface, waiting to be plucked out
like the dead hairs of a woman's eyebrow,
but when I reach down
the waters swallow everything--
my whole body, the face i knew
and in that instant of submersion and loss
(of course there is clarity)
i see those I know and love.
Embalzoned in sinewy flames on the golden shield of my mind,
the waters recede and i fall back
exhausted and satiated with the spice of life.