Mad Saints, Poets, & Lovers

In the ecstatic madness
sits a different kind of bliss
so untethered that you drift
far from the familiar.

There is no cord unwinding
to snap you into place,
and you may float into
and out of 
your original face.

And when one stands screaming,
unwilling to be shooshed -
naked as a J-bird -
immune to being rushed,
you may find a freedom
that would terrify the rest:
the homeless kind of freedom
of the sanity dispossessed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.