space is where all the good stuff is happening
these two orchids,
one alive, one looking dead,
have joined in deep symbiosis,
roots dug into the flesh of the other.
heavily armed
and free
we built a shelter
loving heavily
dead boys had drawn buildings
for live girls to live in
turned the scriptures into tv
and we always knew
what it was we threw away
but now the ice is melting
soft the soil, heavily
loved –
let us make bricks.
detonated atomic missile,
reunited with my first ever love,
tortured then spoke to lizards that crawled out of my food –
dreams are a wonderful source.
i feel welcomed by something
that does not
welcome me at all
the oily wall, the water beside the stolen boat:
pitch black
the street light’s there
complete with the smell of pee
& her –
you ve broken every bone & promise &
the worst thing
you could do now is
lie about your grief
and age. age – yes – but for years
i have not felt so
not alone as here,
by the door – so please
let me stay.
just for a while.
the future of rock is        sand.
(
extending a thought by smith and/or burroughs,
http://www.oceanstar.com/patti/intervus/9601bomb.htm
)