Land of the Lost


garnish is off, the plate barely touched
the greens have been mixed into the mash
the meat scored and poked, yet mostly whole
Is something wrong?
What gives you that impression?
sometimes life feels like there’s noose around your neck
the other end tied to an anchor over the Mariana’s trench
discovering new unfathomable depths of mediocrity’s sorrow
in middle-class debt, under employed and characteristically abused
the bloom of childhoold’s ignorance has wilted
arriving to the laborious thorny husk before bearing fruit
yet indistinguishably average from every other brown column

reason is lacking for alto dramatic overtures
but therein lies the vacancy of satisfaction
checked out are the dreams once propelling action
braving gap-toothed bridges over ragged ravines
swinging on sinewy vines over pitfalls and booby traps
because we crossed these perils and have arrived deeper yet
here in the land of the lost, no compass nor map guides out of the circular path
like a ship in loop on the Southern 60′ parallel, sailing uninterrupted
though squalls may crest the tides over the bow
or silent days pass by wishing for a breath of wind
no ground shall be reached, but we sail on


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