Fast Poems: #8 Paperback Mystics Unwrapping Hammett’s Bird in Plato’s Cave

What could be worse?

Eyesight, slowly faded for years,
Incessant middle ear complaining,
muting symphonic middles,
erasing birdsong from summer skies.
Even rock n’ roll fails to excite
nerve ends rifle report damaged
long ago in barely remembered fields.

Sensitive skin senses less;
friction frics not as much as friction should fric.
An abyss of unmet expectation
opens between mechanics and intimacy
taunting body with soul’s desires;
love-making wraps memory
of intense hurried moments
and first encounters,
with deliberate, practiced, commitment.

Sensing organs’ edges dull.
Universe blurs in eye,
on tongue,
in ear,
on skin.

Masochistic Mind fingers nose to compensate.
Resurrected sense of smell
repaints our world with stink.

Accident of nature,
or medical side-effect,
matters little.

Places formerly birdsong filled,
precise with color and form,
where touch invoked alternate reality;
parallel universes …
… now the colors of smell sculpt life.

Intense as adolescent experiments,
heightened awareness
of smog,
traffic reek,
and plastic perfumes
worn by plastic women
to cloak pheromones
mold day to day places
into pungent reality.

I smell the world!

What could be worse?

© 2008 Chromepoet
Originally Posted September 24, 2008

© 2008-2012 Chromia Poetics