I'm just really not satisfied with ANY of the work I've been producing lately. Very frustrating.


Many Fireflies Do Not Produce Light

I.

Fireflies raged in sets
of incandescence
beside the Rushdie book,
and I counted syllables
with my molars, left to right.

II.

I'm interested in watching
people in the natural state.
Were they nude? I believe so.
They did what happy people
don't do--the technical interest
of circling the lamp shade.

III.

They were thirty percent
of the known world, before
the continents divorced, long
before the dust collected
on the shelf, in the atmosphere.
They were tiny prisms dancing
amidst ambient sunbeams.