by Greg Baysans

Poet X

Random Light

It's been my bane and boon
extracting words from random light.

Random access memory
is all we have of history
as taught in the academy.
Not myth nor genetic legacy
conveys a life's totality,
complete with lust and purity
and pain and glee and irony.
To best describe mentality
without alluding to astrology
as metaphor for activity,
one must strip theology
of its harsh ideology
and fathom instead biology
(or, better yet, ecology),
precisely, entirely.
This thought pulled from the sea
and kept or thrown back immediately,
added to the chronology
which builds on itself constantly,
feeding avoriciously.
Humans and their own debris
are what, with age, we come to be.

Every five minutes
the toilet semi-flushes.
I think it's haunted.
There was no snowstorm
on that holy black night in
or out of mind. Flush.