Thursday, December 25, 2008

Run

In solitude and in

Prison cells

And

In arboreal memory-scapes

Do I find myself

Floating

Face up,

Lungs empty.

 

A long blade

Scream

Escapes me

And

My breath

Rises like a

Cotton cloud

In the chill November air.

 

"Aaaayyyy-a-deeeee.

(Stillness, jet glass water)

Aaaaayyy-aaa-daaayyyy

Sad eyed breezes and

Floating away..."

 

It's like a beer can poet,

Floating on a tire tube,

Spinning in the current,

Spinning with Time,

Spinning with Earth,

Spinning with race-

Consciousness,

Traveling at the

Speed of

Mind,

Deep kissing unthought,

Deeply unthinking the kisses

He planted on Space's dusty ceiling...

 

And in the morning

He won't remember

The words that rolled

Down his face from

His eyes to

His lips.

 

He'll just have the

Lake

And the

Empty cans and the

Tire tube.

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