Thursday, September 10, 2009

gnostic myth

the iconic brass boy stands on top
of the world urinating violently
his laughter cracking the floor

running down and around steaming
like an onion it drips off the south pole
reels out into space droplets

that catch the sun in golden spray
freezing in the vacuum of gaze
swinging back to attention

each is not a little world
just think of him up there
laughing like a clanking ape

nothing else happening anywhere
everything just silent waiting
until it's enough
until something remembers
reaches down
strokes it up into arousal

they wait forever
in their shared breath
each a tree grown into the other
leaning in together
for the last laugh


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