chain on a theme by The Cookies

chains my baby’s got me wrapped up in chains

and they ain’t the kind that you can see;

what you can see is wrapped in an enigma inside a shadow

of sound, shadow that rattles around in the cupboard

a cupboard filled w fully-grown skeletons reach ‘n’ rattling

a rattling that unnerves the ear’s nerves like a slit moment:

moments creep into the possible outrageous evening

and evening rips into the stillness where yr words tumble:

tumbling, aimless murders turn marketable and blind

& blindness wriggles thru the city wrapped up in chains,

my baby’s got me wrapped up in chains & they ain’t

the kind you can see, just hear, like hearing the

neighbors in a mirror