I know what let's do.

Let’s start a gigantic
underground movement
whose purposes remain

oblique, but irresistibly
alluring. Let’s go
about the business

of insuring we are
potentates who commentate
upon the finished work:

which means let us
obliterate all notions
of the future and the past

and place our faith in
the repast of – no,
not now – but something so

beyond the realm of our
incarnate thought that
we can only sense it

through our mitochondria.
Let’s infiltrate the earth,
and scream at the indignity

of birth. Let’s undergo,
and interleave. Let’s be
the grieving residue

of all who’ve gone. Let’s try
to put a lid on rhyming
that with dawn. When we

are done, let’s fall
luxuriously deeply into
sleep, and dream of having

something we might
actually one day find
capacity to keep.


.