Yeah, yeah & A way out
by Jill Jones
[ poetry - october 07 ]
Yeah, yeah
Information is the mountain, yeah
and the mirror is the dark, brilliant.
Eyes are scratched as words fall in
tick, tick, tick - decision.
Blinking suns crack the ceiling
below is backwash, below, below.
Wired, weary in beautiful waste
then they turn off the air, yeah.
A way out
To see yourself
as others see you
is no fun
mirrored in the door
of a terminating train
The hour's getting
surprisingly late
and warm for autumn
the limp wedge between
Easter and Anzac
Everybody's talking to
someone else
who's not present
There's a scroll
offering a way
out of
these names on a line
And shiny clicks
mimic
night insects
