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The Sleep of Reason is a phrase made flesh
when shutters open and the flash-bulbs bloom.
Our Leading Man grins like a nervous groom.
His entourage's hacks and snappers teem
like edgy minders at a threatened creche.
A stream of snow-blind static fills the room,
and voices rising from a broken tomb
unite to whisper fretfully, then scream.
This monstrous demonstration flourishes
and spreads its shadowings from right to left,
a creeping stretch of night that banishes
Perspective and leaves Certainty bereft.
Seek out the dusk. Hang doubt in high esteem.
Grant those who lie to sleep an honest dream.
copyright 2016
Dave
Houston |
