Men are falling.
Did you know it?
They just tumble and plop
Into mounds of men
On floors in schoolyards,
In kitchens and beaches.
Beached whales some of them are.
White.
They’re piling up on every surface.
In spirals they fall
From huge heights.
Even from heaven
These men fall
Down to the depths
Inside each of us.
Think of your own depths.
How deep do you go?
Go there.
How far down does the light begin to fade?
Where does it grow dark?
Imagine a dim motel and you’re a child.
“Mom,” you say,
“Mom, where are we?”
“In a mo’ tail, child.”
And in your mind you’re in
The tail of a mouse,
Half wondering if you’ve left anything at home.
You always do
Leave something
Behind.
And in an instant you’re reminded of all the men that fell.
It’s your time to help them.
To run in,
To dive in after them.
“You’re falling in to fast,” your mom tells you
As you gasp for a little tungsten light.
Emblazoned eyes stare on.
Blind gazes catch *****
Of men injecting dust,
With futile infectious lusts.