Back to Issue 6

Just Talking to Myself, Of Course by Dave Migman

I'm just guessing but there must be times you look into the mirror
times when the bare essence of your nature shines through
and what you see turns your stomach
all the fault lines like graffiti;
the places you thought you'd be
that you'll never see
the industry of madness stripping layer after layer
so that the smile is waxing waning

There are numbered tombs to infinity
stepping stones of incident, retreat,
incident, retreat forming gradated circles
spiral down into the void

I deal in stones, I research symbols
I make parallels to ancient cultures
the flaming three fold branch perhaps
the cyclic notion of life's inflammatory
machination
                    is no consolation to the you
trapped inside double discs of midnight
wishing you were out.