Sunday, February 8, 2015

Don't Rage, Brother

Past the machine
That gives metronome indication 
Of what the night should be,
(Whatever it takes to make
the girls come out).
Metronome feeding trough
I have fed from the trough,
The taste was unwholesome,
Metallic, but the dream was enough
Rubenesque heaven––
These scenarios wet dream
fragrant worlds forgot,
babies not yet born, the springtime
Sacred eyes, the Olmec belief
In order, guarding an inner gentleness,
Get down with your machine self
Do you want to get down with machine me?
The taste is metallic
Move yourself, don't forget
Never forget––learn, dance
move, holla
the machine is often wrong––
it takes one original thought.