6/14/03

this poem is about the
way people read books,
about life in the fast lane
about the need to read
topical typical tupisch.
it's the way it goes, it's
the hoe which hoes
like Father Christmas
driving along the words
purring a Christmas Carol
between bookstops and
commas in the ears, nose
throat centrifugal force
of lips meant to kiss,
or be kissed by love and
other kinds of abundant dearths
daring death to birth or shudder!

a gone world. 4/12/03

father against son
brother against brother
another mother, another son

another war, another
gun, another death
before we're done

sing the promise
worship the sun
soon we'll be gone

soon we'll be won.
fill up the graves
busy or shun

fathers, brothers, old
and the young. (8.00 am)

sunday 6/22/03

the dryness that
bleeds, letting life
flow, a desert dream
which sucks moisture
like the leach of
sickness draining away
inspired creativity-
letting it go-moving to arid the
energies of ego
ergo sum...