Monday, August 10, 2009

the soft and quiet way in to the back room

it comes on
the black librarian with all sails
full up with quiet
his huge handclap
over the ears and mouth
urgent with disaster
it comes on

I will need help
in this new world
with such airs shining

with such dazzling murder stifled agog
I wish I was in Dixie
with the trees walking
the clouds talking

but a flat earth floats above

hush little baby
a bad man is coming upstairs

one day all this
will be yours)

in dreams I stand there
with a spear
looking down into darkness

who's there?
who's there?

will I sacrifice myself?

is there understanding in this wake
of the inept surge towards stairtops?

a new moment without commas has come
under it
the ground rumbles


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