We need to eat But don’t know how I’ve half a mind To furrow my brow Ten tons of civilians all Strung out on a windy stake Washed up, wistful, mute, autopilate– –as per.
Bound to the earth Through stained glass, through floodplains, through miracle exploits Feeding to this day on strange bananas The fertile crescent Thoroughly owned In any event ingrown All the better to ignore You with, my Lord
Great waves then come Rending, rendering Pixelated dreams untenable Atomic bombs blank Like room-temp snow The alphabet of each disaster contains its own before and after Its own Here I am! Its own See you next time Expect the flood To leave the horizon In its wake
Cities are like this Those great postponers Irrevocable, rascals, addict to extreme intensity Our civilization, our own Nostalgic Atlantis a Disneyland factory Wrath’s grapes are Ultimately animatronic Sheerly incapable of Justifying themselves Save for manufactured delight Automated grace and Engineered serendipity Trending (allegedly) Towards singularity Tentative attempts Ultimately unbelievable
Jerusalem is like this It has no final form set in amber Beside remains, open space All beginnings are humble All ends equally so Neither though any more or Lessreal than how it Presents itself today Or will do tomorrow When perhaps the dream Is(finally)realized Crystalline skyline The world’s throat chakra Maxed out, all lumped in Losing your brother In eighty stories of sky-train Eighty or more sinister platforms Vertically aligned above a Vast subterranean movie theatre Where flattened and front facing We watch a documentary About a Chinese singer The voice isreal the Voice Alone rings true within This silicon chrysalis But sinister still and losing Troy in a sudden burst of Suburbia, sudden reminders Of nextdoor atrocities Who is pregnant with whom? We don’t mind solving for X We’ll give any futile errand our all The others are all underground now Buried, as the past tends to be Consisting in dust, in shabby Caverns rage-carved, dog-dug Busy with bent and ever-bending Masked men infinitely driven By their own brother’s memory By the tyranny of geometry Scurrying through tubes Determined, as ants are
Pre-dread and post-relief The beach is quiet at last Has been, and will be All Virginia’s restless Awaiting touchdown.