be come a myst ic

to know the end is not to cause it

the posh lawned isles

don't daunt me

but scare the paper rich

cooped behind wall hedges

eyes closed

my street tonight hosts

a dead drunk middle aged woman

whistlin at me across the street

as her neighbor

circles a fatboy in his backyard

and i lean against my ragtop

on the same blacktop

i did thirty years ago

and little separating us

for my best pal

lived in a  plex

and i on a river

a bike ride between

on the way

to the same classroom

and the same girls

p'ing off the upstairs porch

a purple green humbird

came straight up

staring at me

stopped and looked

me straight in the eye

with reptilian superiority

cocked his head

and veered to the right

in a perfect line

snatching insects in mid air

it was grand white

moon star lites

cuz all the roads lead to me

draping the brothel

in a commune of antipopes

squatting with grapes

and the moon

Paul stares at us

with a eye in blue

i am here

i paint this

and you a watcher

wearing your mask

filled with angles

peep at our fates

the moving information

all around "me"

in here

one to ten

elements of code

that persist as me

before the clockmakers

designed dissolution

drops

must there be a hum

all this innet is silent

feverworking

to assimilate life

a being

into the net

keep your difference

your lack of connection

and its danger