Archive
01/22/09 - (2)
Giant Clam
One elliptical, occipital dawn, When I barely awakened, in the vise-grip lips of a giant clam That had rescued me, from my Great Barrier Reef midlife crisis,
I recognized my location, at the bottom of my brain's ocean, As I, a newly born microorganism groping for sunlit life above, Suckled, aphrodisiacally, on superheated floor-vent teats,
Realizing that I'd been granted a reprieve, to begin anew, If only I might rise to the surface, Reach a South Pacific atoll or floating island in the sky.
Ah, but indeed, that was the existential rub Keeping me from my resurrection of redemption — Choking my spirit, in the depths of compression,
With endless declensions of the mental bends, Which had shackled my soul to the vise-grip lips of a giant clam Holding me thrall, captive, slave to all my phobias,
Those grotesque fears of having to survive corporeal quietus, The mortifying rigors of flagrant decomposition, Accompanied by blowflies, beetles, hairy maggots, wasps.
And so, naturally, I died, passed, silently, into oblivion, Without so much as an over-the-shoulder glance at Thanatos, A nod to that great accommodating god of sleep, Morpheus.
Tonight, dead to the world, I still contemplate the stillness of the ocean, as I dream myself alive, Squirming to break free, from sleep's giant clam, and rise.
01/22/09 - (2)
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