Dead in the Spirit
Posted by mb apples on September 13, 2006 at 21:04:01:
Dead in the Spirit
An abstraction of a family,
fragments of ancient oral histories,
float past Tom Wolfe's grave,
and his swift ghost rises with the morning
heat and follows at an anxious pace,
trying to wrap his malleable
protoplasm around each suspended
morsel of lost beauty.
There is a small isosolestic notch
at the corner of a balsa wood desk
in a classroom at a nearby college (not
quite an alma mater, but some respect is due)
where he hides his gathered bounty.
Thin, frail, uncaloused pointers
rub the slit gently and the smooth
whorls absorb all of the hidden delights,
and they creep up their arms and spread
through every cell like ostentatious
wisteria until the notch is drained dry.
Then, the same frail fingers fumble pens
to pads, squandering every ounce obtained
on recyclable refuse, all origins taken for
granted in the name of immediacy, but still
'ol' Wolfey' floats along exisistence's synapse,
tangling reality with the paranoid, and providing
the scribes with the fodder to do so.