A year underground

..it's been almost that
wallowing in the sloblands
of this world-wide-web
squirming glimmerwards
through oceans of ego
fearful to relent
still undecided which path to tread

You tell:
Am I bang for your buck
or art?

Place your hands around my throat
help me croak out this poet's life
for I don't know where truth is
or if it even exists
beyond the narrow  
and the straight
whatever that is

Out there
graceless peacock pretense
boldly admires itself
lays cold traps of structure
kindling metaphoric fire
while others race obsessed
ricocheting righteousness
site to site

Always at war
dishonestly waged
they grind out their own ends
hungry wasps
bouncing ice-wired
on trampolines
constructed to gobble up chaff
and burnish the sheen  
of arrogant wings

In the desert
I sniffed dirty corners
where shabby worlds shrivel
begging unconditionally
for droplets of tainted rain
watched electronic assassins
weave their thunderheads on keyboards
heard ruthless click of mouse
swarming to invade conquer and rule
sweeping submission
from some hopeful's
feckless shuttered words
relentless as spam

I remain anonymous
the poorest of the poor

Better to slink home
continuing to wonder
which form of alchemy
drives us poet fools
to calculate a word too far
knowing surely
terrors lurk for those who stray
outside a comfort zone
where dictionaries gather dust
caressing the jerk of extreme
but believing expression must always be free

I write in stone
not daring to breathe
lest some new word birth
dazzles me in its headlights
or the hollow taste of an empty spoon
forces itself into a mouth
only familiar with the kerfuffle
of my own haunted tongue