beat exhaustion

i'm tired and
a little stir
crazy as your
imagination
might wander
away to other
scenes not so
dreary i wonder
aloud if it's
the words or
the people the
readers or the
writers in the
end it is not
the same and
yet it's a
shame to
say go-
odbye
an odd
if not
hesitant
withdrawal -
an odd buy
by and by
swing low
swift chariot -
the barbarians at
the gate and the
civilised amongst
us run to the island
of atlantis only to
find the ship left
ages ago w/the stars
(in that particular order)
to guide them.

i'm tired and i'm lonely and i
needed a little colour - purple
and blue and most of all BEAT
- in a word -
best minds -
- generation
destroyed -
MAD-
ness
(loch)
MON-
ster

i'm tired and i've tried to
unravel the pieces, but another
road opens up (several in fact) each
leading to different hemispheres perhaps
and some sticking closer to home w/out a
strict sense of 'home' -

i'm tired and i can't remember if the
poem is my life or my life is the poem
in some unseen way, i see the paths in
front of me.

i'm tired, though.

you see?

moonsea orchards and
cellar doors drifting ...
forever and a day, in
some way or an
other.