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..

Sunday, January 11, 2015

David Shapiro

In the Other Pocket Dust

By David Shapiro b. 1947      
Sisyphus had a bad back.
Why? Well, I get up in the morning
And my wife wants me to carry
A big blue bag of garbage
To my son now
Sleeping in a studio in NY. Five flights he will not carry.

Oh I say I’m not supposed to carry
More than five pounds of garbage

And she crosses the border with it

There was a dead body like little Pedro rolled down the
Hill by Buñuel and not the long kiss
Of L’age d’or but the dog and dog-dream
In Los Olvidados. How do you abandon dirt?
The blue bag also rolls down by itself, full of Pedro

Something little Pedro always wanted to do
It’s a cold day. Man is garbage.

Sisyphus has a bad back.
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