into the mystic

Narcotic Effect

that sense of peace still eludes me,
just out of reach and buried beneath
the Sturm und Drang of mechanized routine

fracturing the small bone structure of the soul
through a constance of vibration

drowning out the pianissimo
of quiet thought synapse connections

bombarding the transcendental chambers of
an Emersonian heart with an arrhythmia of pneumatics

in an effort not to tempt
aneurysm, stroke, heart attack, cancer,
i sit unseen in the narcotic effect of dreamtime return,
my spirit wandering sleepy Walden hollows

where

i am the great horned owl
navigating night forests
in search of sustenance

i am the jack-in-the-pulpit's
time lapse push through
the mulch of decay

i am the rainwater collecting
on the campfire orange blooms
of a smoke tree

flora and fauna medicating me against
the cacophony of modernity
while soaking in the slow intravenous,
dripping with
the chant of the whippoorwill,
the mantra of the bullfrog,
the prayer of the mantis

peace at last less elusive,
slipping under the anesthesia of pax vobiscum