4
tonight humor fails me
like we have failed me
hide me when I am foolish tiger’s
rage
under a Spring bridge,
beneath the shadow of the pantyhose.
hide the bottle in some cupboard above the sink.
hide the stink of my aged apple insides.
hide Lucy beside Coleridge, in the broomcloset beside
my epileptic corpse. my disco bones.
hide the violin of my mind, gutted thru like a ribcage,
playing a lilting madness.
the elderly like to believe that with age comes
wisdom
like some assured beauty.
like some spring tide.
like some parliament of owls.
and that youth burns with the liveliness
and intelligence
of fire.
but the truth is,
age guarantees nothing but itself
and its hungry friends.
suddenly
thunder sleeping. a sand dune kneeling.
a tornado soughing. Tamerlane stealing
sheep. Ozymandias, Ozymandias,
Ozymandias.
lying stark in the desert,
more like the peels of an orange
than any grand dynasty.
I have known many young fools.
I have known many old fools.
till we have cured human despair
we have no right to forbid
the means in which we cope with it.
if you care for this deadness,
hide the means from me.
but even better,
if you are kind do not hide them,
hide my terrible apple insides instead
in the cupboard,
beside a Brooklyn purring,
beside a Buddha weeping,
beside Athena fucking.
I wish to live kaleidoscopic until science plucks me
from the breathing tree.
I heard them yell, "olly olly oxen free!" and I came shooting out of the cunt hole.
