My voice drones on until I cannot hear it
except as a clicking on the desert sand
these faces are part of a vast mirage
waiting at the edges of this dream in which I read
my voice drones on until I cannot stand it
except as the prop that keeps me spinning
in this dimension this room this inquisition
the man in the front row yawns, glazes over
where has all my wit flown where has the
clever page gone it is so wretchedly empty
his eyes have retreated into his brain
looking for garbage or worse anything but this
fear of death by boredom crosses on slow camel before him
I recite the words backwards they are so interesting backwards
listen listen to the words backwards
I am reading drivel to my peers.
