DELIRIUM

 

      I pray to the soil, ocean and sky

      for my next surgical taste of Heaven.

      Romance -

      it has moved me like the plates of the Earth,

      other times, distant as Jupiter.

 

      And when the words come,

      my ego - it flies me;

      beams of laser shooting out

      from every corner of my being.

      I talk to God when I'm alone,

      for only she fully understands me,

      freeing me from my tethered fits of delirium.

 

      The nature of this planet has set me to gasping,

      yet I hide myself in the danger of a city;

      in the Capital -

      I am a lawn mower working in reverse,

      returning the grass in narrow straight lines.

     

 

        © 1990  Chris Sorrenti