what do i think of electricity?
little bits of information in pulses, states of electrons
precision on it's ballpoint pen end writing poignant perfect words
clarity

but more than that, it's a baby's wail
miserable and simple and needy for mother's embrace
electricity flows in its speech, even though unintelligible
that weakness holds static

more-so, it's coming home feeling like nothing, in the world
compensates, and then finding something that does, not vague and fleeting
but black and white, substantial and beautiful and not even complicated
(but so much alive)
and every time, i hear that familiar crackle, i smell sweet ozone

electricity in my voice, before sleeping, singing a song of home
of finding your peace
and yelling, electrocution through my entire body as i feel dead like the singer
and alive as the raining clouds

electricity in the walls doesn't compare, to the traces of touch
felt through 5 layers of winter clothes, sending warmth through the cold
straight to my softened heart
stopping it and starting it like electricity always does

it's in my lamp, but it's in my fingers
pulling a nameless tune underneath so that i can make it into feeling
shapeless and painless and clean
and you still hear, beneath the sharp-edged melody

the crackle of lighting, you smell ozone on my breath
you can see me sitting silently,
satie rolling unfouled from my steel

and you can see the sparks in my eyes, waiting to jolt whoever has
the path of least resistance.

09/07/2006

Posted on 09/08/2006
Copyright © 2025 Corey Lockaby