Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss
eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known
but
lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness,
consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle
parts,
it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that
have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..

Saturday, August 30, 2014

Marilyn Chin

Get Rid of the X

By Marilyn Chin b. 1955 Marilyn Chin
My shadow followed me to San Diego
   silently, she never complained.
No green card, no identity pass,
   she is wedded to my fate.

The moon is a drunk and anorectic,
   constantly reeling, changing weight.
My shadow dances grotesquely,
   resentful she can't leave me.

The moon mourns his unwritten novels,
   cries naked into the trees and fades.
Tomorrow, he'll return to beat me
   blue—again, again and again.

Goodbye Moon, goodbye Shadow.
   My husband, my lover, I'm late.
The sun will plunge through the window.
   I must make my leap of faith.
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