Hacking through a thicket of noise
to reach some clearing within myself
I am lost in a jangled jungle of thoughts
Tossed about in the Facebook maelstrom
Drenched in the hurricane of information
so that I know everything except my self
in the dense and tangled branches of our apple tree
there were birds
just yesterday
redeeming rotten fruit with their pecking
but today the tree is barren
and the apples sag and stink
Having just had coffee with a friend
While we spun dreams like silver webs
across the empty future spaces
Back home and waking to the work of it
the webs don’t spin themselves
and the spaces are so vast and fearsome
In the sink the dirty dishes spill over
as the laundry lies across the floor, unfolded
and there is company
coming tonight
and all of it must be attended to
and all of it calls for my attention
Inside this body, hands cracked from winter cold
with a growling stomach
In an itching sweater, I am waiting to be found
Dave Von Bieker thinks, writes, speaks and sings about art, faith, hope, love and sometimes technology. He lives in Edmonton, Alberta, with his family.
