Litkicks Message Board Archive

earth bum april 2oo2

Posted to Action Poetry




scanning the log books
of the us geo service
i note there have been
42 shakes
since 4 a.m.
in that time
looking out into the yard
beyond the open door
i spied a woman in the mist
but she turned away
the grass gave way and
cold water went running
out my tap and on the floor
i light up another shaky cigarette
every plane that goes droning by
rattles my windows, and more
i hear piano notes
drizzling in my head
an intermezzo in e minor
to the city and to the world
f sharp and b flat
in what place do i belong
seeking my own marbled monument
i take a look around
but i've misplaced the missal
and it can't be found
how changed from what i once was
stopping travelers with bells, alarms
slowly making haste like a shoorah
il faut cultivar notre jardin
but i have a black thumb for Allah
and I've learned to ignore
the empty charms of the gens d'eglise
no, i am not what i used to be
amo et odi
white nights and little sleep
beneath the roaring flowers
the ground again it shakes
that would be rattle no. 42
in my haste, i go ever slowly
rising with the wind
poured from the cradle
i did not choose
yet here i am
would that someone
might explain to me
why this new century
neither shiny neither bright
lost like the Buddha youth
of my coin-tossed past
I suppose death is nothing to get
too excited about
so long as i breathe
i have hope
still
like the pope
i wear a turban
whenever i go out