plastic clapping laugh
track hysteria in heaven
ambiguously dreaming
of endings not like the ones
we've already known,
maybe not enough
dancing on the graves
of unhinged conscious minds who,
dragging themselves about the tombs
of time, forget and forgive
this human race of all its sins,
on earth,
or maybe I'm so very wrong
and all is merely, justly an afterword
to the total societal awakening
of Buddha-ness in the far-flung
future membrane spark--
I'm a walking skeletal remnant of failure!
these things do not exist
throughout--screen doors
swing in the green suburbs
of the concrete greenness of
America--a billion years in
the past is already happening
I've already wasted this line.
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