mapping the lower depths

leaving some hellacious burning

strip of perspicacity

because it can’t be helped,

deep down in barbecue pits frying …

an ugly, throbbing feeling

he has to withdraw.

unable to escape

his bloated passions

inside pickle jars. 

managing to creep

behind a line of circled wagons,

shaken by appearances

that stick out from his bone dry brain

bringing strange recriminations … 

don’t do this! 

don’t do that!

a million submachine guns … 

saying, “what is this world coming to?”

sweaty rilke on the run 

sinks into a sea of sadness …

his milk white soul

across red hot coal consciousness is raked

by a thirst for self-awareness

hardly ever slaked!

Bio: KC Wilder has called himself a poet trapped in a person's body, and in a metaphysical sense, he is.  A musician and composer as well as poet, lyricist, and journalist, widely published and written about in hundreds of journals.  Pushing the edges of poetry, music, performance art and video, Wilder’s video gallery shows 8 free videos which combine his poetry with music and visuals, at frankmedia.com/video. Recent publishing credits include The Seattle Review, Poetry New Zealand, Sounds of the Night, Silver Blade, Contemporary Rhyme, Chronogram, Feathertale, Barnwood.