Copyright © 2013. All rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part in any form or medium
without express written permission is strictly prohibited.
This is the second day without anyone. I am chinning against a dark sky to strengthen my arms. A picture of everyone I love passes through me. No clear light streams thru this cell. There's no dawn. What have I gained by lying in this abyss, waiting for the masonry to show a little slit for my soul to get through?
Oak oak! like like it then cold some wild paddle so sky then; flea you say "geese geese" the boy June of winter of again Oak sky
Break it all down! We're too mesmerized to break from this vampire, America.
When I button my fly I button it wrong and I laugh. My crotch looks lopsided.
What a beautiful storm! Infinite thunder! Wishing to be home No wonder.
The ghost of Spring has reappeared, clearing my throat of winter I make the first move
Nobody can get inside me until the angels get there first. A vision stands scratching his wing on the other side. Two angels fly among the trees. O ocean that stops my blood O sun! That dries it up O clouds that carry it off and the courage inside our tough organism that loses life so easily. Think what you want about the uselessness of art for art's sake, or science as a social metaphor. Neither can change this world or become a comrade to the enslaved embittered masses or a ruby in the elite crown of the greedy few. That is why nobody is allowed inside me until the angels bring their defiant message to reconstruct the resumption of life everlasting of love, of hope.
The sun disappears behind hills, a white light still remains. No pink or red or orange with tight purple streaks, through a white cloud. I suddenly feel we can never be destroyed, but I know otherwise. It's only a daydream an overwhelming breeze a constriction that I can't see opening up in the heart on a warm evening.
All this summer fun. The big waves, and waiting (the moon is broken) for the moon to come out and revive the water. You look and you want to watch as men feel the beer breaking on their lips, and women seem like the sun on your little back. Where are you closer to everything? in the plants? on the photograph or the little heart that's not used to beating like the waves' foam? A wasp is looking for a hole in the screen. No. There's no man in the lighthouse. There's no woman there, but there is a light there; it's a bulb. And I think how complete you are in its light. Flash......... Flash..... .................................... And I think of how our own room will smell; You lying on one bed and we in the other, facing the... flash..... .....................Flash
Nothing exists that does no empty. Who are you feeling? Who do you bite in the morning? Our health? when we're sick is the body coming. Our love, a mountain fuming in the ocean like a graceful race such as black. When the shores overtake in the continent. When the heroes are phony, and our house less than rubble will there be a bite, a memory still left?
You light like a flashlight something through the west of worn shades. All this great fun and you like a dark of misunderstanding only bring a large sample of green while people dance to rock and roll in spanish. All the littles on the wall watching while the parrot and the dog again sleep. The moon like a stopped cannon ball: so little difference between us. I search the corners for you and I am drunk in a park or a hallway at night. Being in the street is being gone in the largest apple in the universe.
There are no dinosaurs but man suffers still more. Morning, roaring tiger of trying to keep. In the engine silo, there are no dinosaurs of pain that are hurried enough: Morning Star!
See the black bird in that tree trying out the branches, puzzled. I am up there with you puzzled against the rain blinking my eyes.
Copyright © 2013. All rights Reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part in any form or medium
without express written permission is strictly prohibited.