This is an experiment
I
could
do without
the background
music, but we'll make it work
on this cold
night, Friday night,
in March, everyone is
heading home under cover
of darkness, sky is void black
flatness, kind that's infinitely
impossible and construction
paper thin
what it hides, if anything,
from me--
my every thought having
been written, spelled out,
removed, dissected, lobotomized
(an ice pick through
both eye sockets) & set
in place--this
trip now,
it's getting clumsy,
jealousies & like V
said, what does it matter
we're not trying to make it...
make it...?
we gotta
make it
there's no one
and nothing else
but out there--
I'm folding the coast
and stars into my eyelidded bliss
I can't rest--
wearing this tumor on my soul out
I lit a cigarette a million years ago
& the match,
it hasn't gone out yet
it burns toward the center
consuming
the very heart of the world
and to find it,
each night in my dreams,
when I sing, she's
got a way in
a diner, alone,
watching my hollow
self in the wall length window
obscures
the truth of the cold outside
suburban northern Virginia
23rd St., Friday &
we're alone in the
collective isolation
of pretended reality
feigning cries of outraged
happiness, hatred--it's
motion--we've been
detected--abstracted--
from--motion--
we return to--
are limited by--
the brain is aged
the body is victim
put together like
legos
and equally plastic
I
d
rown i
n c
o
ffee
drown in
self
image
(muted,
thankfully)--in favor
of satellite beamed
love songs--
radio--played behind
the walls
wind screams
friendly voices
aged
boiling like the maggots
of the cheese
curdling
I--
I--
am seeking
an obstruction
god drew his finger down
through this great land
and dug a river
in it's marrow
that's our hearts
to cross it
is to really
truly
believe America
to really breathe
really live
America
on this crusted earth
all the angels have
found it
have sung of it
eternity like a
blaring wave
gilded, guiding my hand
oh, it is true
that we've forgotten much
an Earth
plummets into empty
space while
ants scurry, are tortured on its surface
until not one shred of
understanding
remains
dig your brow in its shimmering memory
and hot subjective
rainbow-scope reality
collapsing--
feel for the open sprawl
and rushing (falling too) hills
go--out West
is a song that rings in all
true souls
never blinking
&
that dream to
keep on going--well,
it's knowing--
All roads are one road.
Forevermore.
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