CHAMBERS OF SOLITUDE

Mute,
my radio, my jukebox,
the altar of my sanctuary–
without words or music
until now.

I think I've ruined it.
I had to put in my two cents' worth,
and look what it got me.
I just couldn't refrain.
I had to join in the game,
though I had nothing to contribute.

The symmetry is not fearful, after all–
I could have just quietly contemplated,
free associated,
lying back on my psychiatric couch
telling myself to tune in,
turn on, drop out.

Radio, jukebox, altar, tyger,
tiger, burning bright–
Grandma's washboard!
Let's take it down to the creek
and give them overalls a good scrubbin'!

CHAMBERS OF SOLITUDE

I just couldn't refrain.
I had to put in my two cents' worth.
I couldn't just stop, look and listen
the way they always told us to do
when crossing the road like some chicken
who had to get to the other side.

The other side!
There's that sound again:
my own voice echoing in
these chambers of solitude.