Thursday, January 29, 2015

Time Ploy(Plot)

while Proust
eats Madeleine
sea shell crumbles
on ocean waves
of fragrant undertows
sweet rip tides sucking
scent of rose petals,
bergamot peals, sour
sweet shore breezes,
our sky is falling
elsewhere, go
run the cowered
mass of humanity
shoving each other
at the door, one more
building to fall,
hoping to make the
top floor,
shield their heads
with books, the largest
novels wastefully,
paper cannot halt
the meteor storm,
to be dead on top of
screaming bones and
bloody flesh, dead eyes
on blue sky, cloudless,
all wishes gone,
by the old lunch cart
ol' '52, stale boiled coffee
cents a pound, we drink
it up all day, in an idea-
effort to build the storm,
took near 500 year, year
2450 in fact when the
corrugated shells slipped
without warning past mars,
struck god/man down, when
paper, buildings and thought
were razed. it's an eventuality
everyone dies in literature
the books forgotten, quotes
misused, idols misjudged.
so we brought it all down
she said on the executioners
chair, we died on the bottom
floor, smiles on mounds of
concrete death, letters on
our tongues.

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