Ah, so poetry lives

so art lives

that’s the claim I hear

from South Philly

I listen to the claim

hear the liquid words

as the evaporate in lungs

& ears of captive audience

& the feelings arise

over & over

listen to sound

in deep forest trees
an old owl assassinated

by sniper’s bullet

and its snippet of wisdom

left unspoken

ergo unheard

all lifeforms creeping

from one cell bacteria

to this human form

eating rats in subway sewers

and whispering rumours

of impending revolution

of evolutionary dreams.

Ah, the sweet apocalyptic verse

chanted by fragile prophets

the old slave hymns

& Catholic Pagan rituals

All Michelangelo paintings

this homo in love with God

& self righteousness condemned.

I can not hear this manifesto

of sanctity

I only see streams of light;

blinding light

I mutt turn away

and dip into darkness;

inevitable I suppose

the writing was on the wall

we were just too shortsighted

to bother reading it


August 8, 1993










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