Rock & Sling 9.2
Postcard from A Sailor (#6)
Arriving in California
just before Thanksgiving,
I?d say I felt pensive
if pensive were the sensation
of one billion thoughts colliding
in the cerebral cortex,
not pinprick stars,
more like dark matter chaos,
more like an unweaving,
the loss of any sense of order,
of any sense of navigation,
as if the parking tickets were papered everywhere?
and the email had begun to explode?
and the cars all crashed into one another?
and all the marriages torn asunder?
the children unborn?
all the tools tossed into the sea?
if there were a sea?
if there were any stars by which to navigate?