August 1, 2004

  • just to lay alive in the cemetery sun


    on ground, shoulders and head bent back


    against  an obelisk of hot black marble


    (like a salamander sunning on a rock)


    accepting the drunken incoming solarization as truth


    justice and the american


    never-way of nothing ever


    (it’s gone in but a blink of the eye) -


    i dream of all the undreamt


    but realize for myself


    that the only possible undream ever


    is never making love to you.

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The End of Days

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