if the earth stopped turning,

water from a rusted spicket.brass doorknobs,forbidden rooms,where spider webs coverforgotten books.and the chant of the ancientsrolls like thunder!strike the bell, mountains quiver!somewhere the gods of oldwalk deserted streets,while the shepherd kingsraise their flutes and play.and the old mad monkwalks into the hills,never to be seen,or heard again.black hooves, white snowthe taste of blood,the smell of…

in a favorite book,too long on the shelf.the memory of your lips,whispering in a languagethat only the wind knew!now your silence betrays…we are the graintoo deep imbedded!the tree itselfcannot remember!the door that wont close,the broken pane in the window.the pot now empty,charred with before!

ah, but they tell mesecrets i cannot reveal!i discovered infinityas i was sweeping,between the cracks in the pavement,just out of the reach of my broom.the spider came every nightfor a week, weaving it’s gigantic web.now all that’s left in it’s absence…a hole in my thoughts,named by memory!

sharing table scrapsthrown out by the rich,with mongrel dogs…barking and howling,and peeing on dreams,in the alleys of the soul.a blind plumberfixing the leaks,for a cola and a can of beans.an old man sipping brandywith tired ghosts,a child left alonewith discovery!i am the hand you reach for,the face you cannot understand.the tear you buriedon your angry…

long gifted, now trembles,but just a little.wipes tears and fights injustice,buttons the collar of respect.takes down your hair,like rain falling on leaves.bandages the dog’s paw,lights the fire late at night.turns the pages of the book,strokes the inside of your neck.unleashes volcanoes,opens the door of the cage.and sprinkles dirt on the graves,of those that came before…softly…

peaceful waves lappingat the shore….but the storm is coming;students give way to workers,workers without food,without housing or medical care,workers without hope….angry workers,and they damn sureought to be…i know, i’m one of them!