inhibited

by dbdevilliers

dumbly staring as usual through the
wrong end of the telescope I run
out of words and I run
out of breath and I
run

in circles in circles her eyes too in circles
in lenses in circles and what could they
behold, turning
elliptically and tearing to pieces from misload
and mine groan from hers to the sky to the floor
moved by worn and rusted clockwork
metal on creaking metal wanting
badly for grease

or the problem of course is not in my eyes or
the muscles that move them but in what
resides behind them.

I rub shampoo into my skull and contemplate troubles within.
impulses electrical, chemical. inhibition of reuptake and
myelin deterioration. dead spots from oxygen deprivation.
in both hands I hold these words and others too

sprouting ginger shoots. a wild thing.
it sometimes still can dream.