the tap

the idea
that a dri
pping tap
could drive
any per
son to in
sanity
is a par
ticular
ly west
ern one
I have
dozed like
a drunk rhi
no for ma
ny years
with a tap
dripping a
way in the
corner of
my cell
the guards
originally
intended 
for it to
chip a
way at 
my mind
as a gen
tle stream
might sculpt
the cont
ours of 
rock over
centuries
but at the 
time of
my in
terception
as I crossed
what I 
thought 
was an 
unmanned
border my
mind was
already sha
terred into
little jags
of iden
tity that dis
solved into
the lurid
flow of 
sensory
experi
ence 
at first
they sus
pected that
I might 
be taking
refuge
in the re
gular me
tre of the
drip
drip
drip
not un
like the 
drum of 
a funeral
parade acc
omopany
ing the dear
leaders cof
fin so they
rigged the
tap with
rubber bands
and twigs
in such a
way that
the drips
hit the con
crete floor
at irreg
ular in
tervals
but I was
already com
fortable with 
the ran
dom stacca
to of exis
tence and 
the drip was
no more a 
bother than
my thoughts
they have 
since gi
ven up on
the regu
lar beat
ings and keep
me locked 
up not so 
much as a 
punishment
but rather
as some kind 
of state se
cret some
thing they
don’t want
the other
prisoners to
discover
which rais
es the que
stion of why 
they havent
blasted a slug
into my cor
tex perhaps
because my
way of be
ing could 
be of ad
vantage to
them if they
were inter
cepted be
hind ene
my lines
they even let 
me shimmy 
over to 
where the tap
is dripping
to open my
mouth and
catch each 
drop like 
a delicious
doggy treat
the little 
explosions
of chilled
clarity ren
derring the 
sound
of each drip
into bloss
oming bliss
sometimes
one of the 
guards might
ask if there
is an im
age that I
keep in my 
head and I 
say no but
I sometimes 
dream that
I am the bu
ddha sat on 
a rock in the
christian hell
and every so 
often an an
gel appears
to ask me if
I am in ang
uish and I
would reply
in a calm
rested tone
oh yes
this is te
rrible
please let 
him know
that I am
suffering
greatly