Like Mad Monkeys in the Night
It seems like I’ve been around too long
and even then the words don’t come out right
a herd of lemurs in your mind racing with the night
and the fleeting and overwhelming feelings
a flood of dust with your evening tea
and by then the day has worn you down
and you remember every day why you have the blues
and you try your hand once more
to remember
to forget
to tie it all together
with threads that disintegrate
like the century’s brittle pale bones
threads that
lack purpose
lack poise
lack very little
and somehow hold it all
and you try not not be allied
with any causes
even the good ones
but it still falls short, chasing the
neurotic monkeys of the night
and the guts that have burned your wits end
and the day’s frayed hours to point out your madness
but nothing is a surprise among old friends
and I’m still here, and it has taken so long
just to get here
and like the dream I had so long ago, there is more form
and maybe there is some art to it as well
and the rest of the words are somewhere down the road
ahead of me
leading me on
and for what, I really don’t know
and for what, it doesn’t really matter