A revolving stage!
The carousel goes nowhere,
spinning endlessly back on itself.
The infinity of an hour glass.
The sands of time.
The back of the widow.
People get on others get off.
To be trapped here is to be nowhere,
in a waiting room
Waiting for the judgment hour.
Waiting for clarity to devour free will.
it could be a prison of paralysis
it could be a prison of fetish
it could be a long bus ride downtown,
with a broken air conditioner
it could be long lines of freeway traffic
it could be societies prison
it could be your own prison
it could be cupids prison
it could be deaths prison
A revolving stage
jerome moore's Other Poems
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