Cleanup in Aisle 5

by on February 23, 2019 :: 1 comment

Scratching shadow
Etching black on gray
Groping for boundaries
Limits
We press them
We address our questions
To no ears
But ours

Ours is the answer
The voice we hear
Resounds from our own
Stretched chords
A confusing caterwaul
From which we draw
That one thing
That something
To render reason
From an otherwise
Random run

The rest is just mess

editors note:

By talking to ourselves, we invent the universe and our place in it. (See two more new mad missives from MH on his page – check’em out). – Mike Fiorito

Comments 1

  1. Hem Raj Bastola

    I am glad to read your piece after a long time in mad page, I think. Regardless of questions and answers, I am happy to hear echo resound from the random run. And let it me mess dear editor! We are the mad after all. And creator is always mad and careless my dear Clay.

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