SCREAM CAPS / HABITation

 

Teething wisdom, the citizenry can’t stop /

won’t stop chattering and boxing their ears.

There are no scandals—the sine wave

flat.

 

                                  I imagine the Borg

edge on hard-core in their alcoves, relent

solely to materialize violence. Today

I try to write a poem and pleasure

fissures a blank.

 

                                                           Fed

feelings. Fed struggle. Fed thought. Fed

potential. On dark nights Janet Jackson

meditates. She envisions a colourless

spaceship. She and her brother

scream.