ether/or

   Coming Out of the Ether (1)                        

Every six months shove steel into me.
Use all the locals you want (please)
It’ll still unify me
By pinning my many in
Authentic selves to the single thing
They’re only shadows of.
Goodbye Piccadilly,
Farewell hysteria,
Everyone was singing the same song,
And it wasn’t in my dreams
Where I’ve been seeing you.
It’s like being told
I’m harboring a fatal disease,
But more so, much

And yet not at all, much
Better. It’s like real
Sex but not much like that either.
Just that it makes me sane.
Why bother adding that
Is only a feeling?
It’s like being Creeley
Or really any of those people
Turning eighteen during WW II,
Part of a giant Chance
Sink or swim so they swam.
Put their queer shoulder
To the general wheel.

The name of the foundering
Vessel’s ‘Leviathan.’
Captains of industry
In the lifeboats first,
And money is that industry,
Leaving us breathless.
You, me, & our friend M.
As for our particulars;
Send your blank checks
C/o Søren Kierkegaard,
101 The Deli; Walnut Creek.
We’ll be the view from his deck.
Scalpel.



                     David Bromige














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