the night falters and the morning trips
on it's shoestrings, we watch
the endless procession of theories
impose their dogma, liberation scatters
from the unconscious and the darkness
becomes blinding, a priori thought is
as obsolete as black and white television
sets with rabbit ears, the blankness
of it all overwhelms me like a heroin rush
gone awash, my psychic stream flows onward
like a grumpy old man with no one to play with.