Like Syd Barrett

I feel like Syd Barrett in a fun-house mirror,
as if the rest of the world has gone crazy;
and what’s left of the light has crawled off in a hole
where it’s becoming bloated and lazy.

Like the tale of dervish whose well was untainted
when the water supply became changed,
and he looked on with horror as everything pure
became somehow sick and deranged;

and then in desperation, he took just one sip
of the nectar his neighbors preferred;
in less than an instant, he too was convinced
that his previous life was absurd.

I feel like Syd Barrett, left grasping the edge
of a dream cut from bright colored glass,
a puzzle of unfinished mirrors and fragments
for watching the circus march past.

27 NOV 2007

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