Zen EDTA
My dream is
to chelate
the chrome-coated,
heavy lead machinery
that processes
and manufactures
my stock of mass-produced
thoughts
and the residue of their
components.
I want to wash their clawing ligands
from my rusting porphyrin rings,
And dissolve them in the disemboguing
trails that flood through my insight.
I want to watch them
crush, fold, and collapse
in the concertina
of bathetic synthesis,
the incondite structures
that manifest
my impulses and my impressions.
I want the irritated skin,
the suspension
of nausea and discomfort,
the fever, the headache
of detoxification—
and I want the lucid feeling
of knowing that nothing remains.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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