my room is muffled like a
blanket
a fixed hour neither forward
nor back
my girlfriend detests the
tight-rope walker
his infantile dream of
endangering himself
the night gathers his back
to the fire a moonlit cape
between my ears is silence
the mysteries scrawled like
iridescent wings
the tight-rope walker takes
a step
forward across the looming
office towers
I write to escape whatever
my life contains
a range of habits and
contradictions and charades
no matter what I read in
books or people's faces
I'm light as the wire or
doomed to make these errors again
the arguments are circular
my father and his beliefs,
my best friend is skeptical
by nature,
my subconscious will always
win,
the heroes I admire, never
fail me
the torrents
like a penny down a black
endless hole
so emptiness falls endlessly
seconds before instants
what should have been days
water rushing in
I'm no longer coming full
circle
proud relatives will leave
this earth unhappy
winter cats prefer comfort
and clean
water, supper, breakfast,
and then bed
dream pictures hang
everywhere in the living room
IÕm not getting anywhere
with them
I remember when I was
younger;
how I would pander to the
crowd
and dance like a clown on a
tight-rope
adolescence was a hold-up
you couldn't get across to
my universe
without falling;
adulthood the ground never
ends
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