Anhk-st

I coulda been a hippie, then AIDS hit the Haight/ and this isn’t beatnik black but the shadow of my heart/ that gleams through my skin as my particles begin to part/ no godwords, just quotes from my friends that drive to me build and ark/ for a time in the future when the ice melts/ eyefills of tears/ the burning under my feet, as I lurk barefoot on the asphalt/ sidewalk blues/ coffeehouse pretention/ I’ve blabbered enough walkaways and friendship kills to extort my way to heaven/ long roads, heaving the poison of industry/ of progress/ of dementia, suspicion, and the anxiety of the towers collapsing in jetfuel cookery/ the answers are writing on the fibers of fuzz the cloud my cubicle grey/ shelfed in academia, and somehow translated by the greys/ you are product number elusive/ stupefied from your innocence by inoculations and schooling/ we are you and I, now inseparable/ I’ve left the faucets on a slow drip so the freeze wont kill the pipes/ I saw life swing low from around your neck