love is a death in itself…

the garden of you,and spider webbed dreams.pine sap running, hot and molten,my tongue rests…inside your soul.love me dammit,or write me letters.send them to‘destination unknown’!buy a dress for my funeral,a hat, and new shoes…any color but black!inside and inside,peeling layer after layer.conversation of sparrows,struck mute by flesh.you taste sweat of summer,i am past late autumn.the gods…

for strays, dogs and cats,old people and young anarchists.addicts, whores, ex-cons, and thieves.street bums, farmers left homeless,angry young students…spiders, snails, ants, and moths.out of work elephants,turtles who have lost their shell.small birds fallen from the nest,both prodigals and dreamers.third world refugees,the blind, and the deaf.sons and daughters,mothers and fathers…people bound by tears,fears, and their own…

we have become a plastic world.addicted to the buying and the selling.we feed the ‘i’ till we’re sick…we have become callous, indifferent,victims of our own egos.we use sex to sell, we follow the lie,we turn our backs on those in need…and the only time we feel anythingis when it happens to us.we treat our environment…

with bones,that used to wear faces!small children singing,songs of coming and going,leaving the eerie tasteof things forgotten.the field fresh plowed,drowned by morning rain,waits for the bodiesthat seed the future.while priests chantneath stained glass windows.the sun weary with bringing,finds its way on the path.the fresh dug gravesmourn with the ache,longing for the thrustof love’s denial.and dead…

with instant salvation by quick donations,the blind follow the blind.while the rich cast bread to the nearly dead,and kick the dogs as they eat.with boots of flesh that stink of success,they grind the bones beneath their feet.the time clock shouts, undresses doubt,till the truth is revealed.dignity cries with unbound eyes,till the cup of cost is…

are we drifting off to sleep?out to sea?or further from the core?we die in circles,circles within circles.with small short breaths hurledon the hairy plate of eternity.a thousand tiny fires,built by unseen handson darkened roads…a thousand tiny deaths!or a thousand stop the world kisses,when names and identities are forgotten,if but for an eternal moment.how many times…