Bedbugs VII

Bedbugs VII




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"Iatrogenics" is written on the wall of the classroom.
Nothing else, one tone rings out and continues. I get
nervous as to who will hear it and quickly depart.
Old leaves of color and grace and weathered dignity
dance in the air and I try to avoid any
worse times; he's crying like he saw on TV, programmed
reaction decided by an outside force. The next day
it's sunnier out and covert tricksters celebrate,
she wasn't there to hear it. Twice already they've
deceived us, but she wants to remain outdoors
in body and spirit, neuroleptic's delight. Twice
in this past hour, the joy searched for surfaced; we
are cheated by stripes and black and white
patterns that, while ordered, are hiding
something. It could be something beautiful,
scattered and directed like thoughts being
operated on. Pinwheels look like they reflect
just like they did when we were kids. Animal instinct
takes over once more, hopefully meant to coincide
with moral joy, emotion printed over.
Someone is singing in the basement.
I will concern myself with that in the future.
Red buttons, run a thumb over them and
see if they work. The pile of metal
parts is growing. Kaleidoscopic emotions
are in the tube that's turned and
I realize, taking the seat meant for me,
that everything will improve. Burn out every chamber.






Next week's seven phrases/groups of words:




-insects shot in a fisheye lens
-venetian shafts of light that are bottled
-wild rust, everywhere
-taking it somewhere better
-red hat from a period piece
-animals resting on the mountain
-put the lights back on!


-Adam
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