When someone can open
these dusty chutters,
we'll know when dawn breaks
or a butterfly flutters.
Instead to stare
at these burning lights
invoked to dream
of warm summer nights.
I sit here open
to such modern diseases,
this miseducation
and the hell that she teaches
cannot be condoned
beyond my dismay
for this I care not
nor would I repay.
To dwell in this rage
with hands behind my back
can only remind me
of my own futile lack
in these dismal classrooms.
In these parodical flasks
lies the numan disection
behind everyone's mask.
April 19, 1999