jeudi 5 août 2010

afterbirth


accusation and confession:
i am a thought criminal.

a tattered antimatter flag
floats above the rain gutter.

in gray tones a phone rings.
no one is ever home. never.

a homeless man crashes the gate.
crows rush in to sift and peck.

they desecrate the labor ward
where i gave birth to god.

old man plays cat's cradle with
with bits of dessicated string.

crows argue string theory,
fighting over quarks.

the history of the universe degrades:
god lay stillborn on the table.

somewhere a phone rings
in this flat black emptiness,

now a room without a soul
where i am disappeared.


2 commentaires:

Pisces Iscariot a dit…

WOW! - I've been re-watching Twin Peaks with my sons, but this is way scarier.

Moineau En France a dit…

thanks, pisces. struggling to keep writing, to keep my brain afloat in spite of neurologic/immune dysfunction (t'ain't easy...) every once in a while, there's a gem among the pig slop: this is one of them, i think. love to you... xoxoxoxo