et us ride such swift & surging currents
into the future, drips like paint from ragged cloudburst skies
let us script words
& then poisoned pens, we let it fly
into your maelstrom, city night she begins w/ horns & voices
in the night
so cool & smooth & w/ elegant aplomb
approach the podium caress the speaker glib & wired
into sunsets, frames & frozen fantasies
of log cabins, rolled in stone, & gypsy weavers
finding freedom, violence in words & images on the screens of so many televisions
tuned into Time
this ragged face of history, of cars & castles of yore & mimes
& poet laureates, actors, singers, radicals, feminists, care-takers, muck rackers
rabble rousers, they cry
a slingshot, bullseye, arrow flies into my mind, the bullet dies all light explodes
into the future seed, a Kingdom not of words, not of realms, not of mine.
a place where nothing happens
because every thing has been perfected rendered in ionic
classic lines.
