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

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