In this room
the walls are upside down
the ceiling is actually the floor
but no one even notices
the windows remain open
as I sit and scheme of new ways
to remain on the top of all the nothing
to which it seems I am so umbilically like connected
there is no jesus, no buddha
no gallup poles
nor eternal ideas
nor afterlife fears
just a lot of paper on the floor
and angels hover in corners
blow trumpets
wear sunglasses of blue suede shoes
refer to each other as daddio
and carelessly saying to the blues
as I sing my redemption song softly
in hardly audible tones
like a hollow wand that howls
its scared tune into the night

-J