I dream of shooting you,

full, heavy, veins following
history as it rots on our eyes.

I dream you fall over with a
"yes, sir!" There's just not

that much more to it:

light ripples through trees
like laughter in a fall-out
shelter, probing slow fecund buds
for the clutch of meaning. It roars

like airplanes in our hearts. Feeling
is one way to fly without wormwort
or totality, frequent miles tuned in
to our eyes blossum'd with temporary

sentiment, and
these bodies were made to fit

like this. Your breath such soft

bullets on my skin. I dream you
rain on me, alone in my endowment:

I'd kill to be a genius, to ride
planes from one side of the room
to the other, high above
the dirty workers and their beer

in cans, erased from daily
conversing. Instead I convert
file extensions. I memorex
the protocol. I dream

of shooting you down so you fall on me,
who stands here straining up with an open mouth.

2003/03/03 07:32:17


=====


http://www.lewislacook.com/
NEW! Zoosemiotics http://www.lewislacook.com/zoosemiotics
ARCADIA: long poem serialized in the muse apprentice guild: http://www.muse-apprentice-guild.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html


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