notes on a nervous system

despair must become hope.
the yellow dredges of spent tea leaves
must become the power tablets of
meat-hungry vitamins.
when a sexy naked young man lies down
on his back with the specific purpose
of masturbation and cum-spurting foremost in his
sexed-up brain, those fingers of his get right to
work. there is no mystery or question.
these results are going to happen.
this load of cum will
be copiously spurted, and,
soon there will be another load
impatiently waiting its turn.
music fills the heavens with
its sweet sounds, mostly avian
in origin, though crickets and
locusts and even high-squeaky bats
make their own generous contributions.
some of those who listen wish that
everybody else would just shut the hell up.
others just want to pump up the volume,
vibrate the eardrums like aluminum pie
pans, dangling from strings
in the bright shiny sun.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem appeared in Zygote in my Coffee, print issue #6, Winter 2009. I was the "Featured Poet" in that issue.)