The Trees Have Been My Friends

The trees have been my friends.

When oblivious businessmen
go to their upscale gyms and afterwards
clink their glasses of red wine
together over steak dinners
I will be able to say
I was nestled in a house of impoverished people
where I dreamed the ancient dreams
of the microcellular arrangements
from a very long time ago
and there beside it,
though not in sterile air conditioned
air,
there, on the stagnant outskirts of an
industrially polluted city,
there the trees have still come to live
and the trees,
the trees still loved me,
the trees still loved them,

and the trees have been my friends.

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Force Lux Imperium Imperius

Would I have to leave you
for Space?
When the cities were sick.
Choking, polluted messes,
discarded, but still not discarded.
Of course, like all great shit shows,
built by the masculine gender.
Gravel, trash, petrochemicals.
Fused, smashed, grinded together.
But look, there is a new glassy
skyscraper rising above.
Phalluses we pat our backs over.
The leaders retire in them.
Guarded by their Imperium Guards.
These are truths of the era.
Dumb, choking, cough.
So would I have to leave you
to love you, to love in a new way,
beyond the dumb dome of
violent boys playing with their
toys.
To kiss the blue bend, bleeding
to black, infinity, freedom.
Civilizations not built around
gold, silicon, and silicon dioxide,
but light, mineral soil, air, the
circle,
the unworded, and the unmolecule.

From A Spaceport

  
It is a spaceport
where we found love.
With its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
A sky above.
Always some kind of sky above.
Kill me when there is no longer
some kind of sky above.
But we lived there still
with its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
With its imported fruit,
monitored air,
and industrial hangers
bringing in the pollutants
from the men of Earth.
In all that is sick.
In the failure and necessity
of our species
we found love.
We found the one necessity
that still survives
in the words, attention, and
glances of the other.
We found the glances of the
other
and the hum, that one long
hum
of everywhere, every moment,
molecule, and memory.

Ripe Womanly Presence

In the summer
I will want to jump
from the city bridges
into the polluted river below
to celebrate
the carcinogenic world
that men have built
from their grand manly
leadership,

then I’ll climb out,
walk home
to be loved properly by you
and your ripe womanly
presence.

The Prosperous Impoverished

priceofhealth

when the corporations go away
we will still love
unloved by the
waste they have laid
and pollutants in
our blood

but when we
cough blood clots

when children ask

we’ll tell them
there was once this thing
called wealth

it’s the cost and the price of health

from the once high mandates
of fiendish men
always
men
stuck in the 20th century

and this is why I love your
blue eyes now
amongst the stars, averages
and standard messages
encoded

Metropolis Of Scalar Memory Codex

I don’t know if you’re out there.

I’m not saying if made of stone or cells.

This cell was constructed over forty years

and then erased during a lightning storm

before they could enter into the dimensional.

 

I don’t know if you’re out there.

No intention is here or there

within a cupboard made of particle board or wood

who could listen to the instruments of the cosmos?

Who could remake the antecedents?

 

I’m a resident of the garden.

I’ve known sunsets and sunrises.

I held a dying person in my arms

then a lover left me when this new world was just

beginning

and I have been with the cement walking stones

ever since

bequeathed to the radiated air and rising city.