"-DiSquiSiTiOn-"

we have all trundled down
glabrous      
  slopes
        of futility:where giants woods(from whichDANGLE        

         twines of thought one swings from
serially, mischievously, Tarzan-like)give way to
endless
miles
of desiccation.

where now,
never-known and never-reached,
desolate
ideas brown themselves ugly,
dead
clumps of soil
the rain forgot.

believe me.
we have all felt parched.
we have all lifted callused hands
up to the sky,
chanting self-consciously:

rain me thoughts,
rain me words,
rain me a river of reason.