Why open it up again? Why stretch myself naked
Across the page? Why search for whatever it is
That causes me such deep-seated pain?
Since the fog of my childhood, the continual
Blankness, I have been confused by so many things.
So much has disappeared into the numb section of my mind—
And I search; I search so ardently for a way of access.
Drunken oil pumps now stand naked against the sunset, pumping
Dry ground—dehydrated mutants of past progress.
They have more than a need for purpose, they need to be
Remembered, to be known as more than useless scraps
Of dreams—they are only useless because the once
Fruitful ground has dried up and mandated, commanded the
Pump to lose favor.
I too pump the forgotten parts of my brain for information,
Want it to come alive beneath the machinery that manipulated it.
The apparatus falls dry, and I lose value in words.
I cease producing.
1/10/98Aboard the Amtrak Coast Starlight From Los Angeles to San Francisco