(plus another poem for the joy of it)

Acclimating to Discomfort of the System Breaking Beneath Us

          I do not take any

           calls except from

          the century we are in

when there is no bible in my hotel room

 it makes me sad to have no place to put

     my filthy poems for future guests

      it is important to let them know

everyone should burn with abandon as soon as the heat is available

 be a self-styled alarm clock no one can shut off

   be the storm Love places in someone's home

         are you sure we can handle this

          because I am absolutely certain

           c'mon wind knock us around

             we are a tide that cures ills

               look at us in the mirror

       as soon as the invented language enters

      us something else will vibrate in our skin

     opening door with teeth of the future to

   the place where we let the freer feeling go

when you told me you had been looking for me

        we pressed through every

       invisible barrier between us

     I watched you gently let the gods

   know you are ready to win the lottery

        there were people from the

           19th century alive in my

            lifetime many years ago

              I met some of them

            they are all gone now

             as we hold on to

             the side of one

           another howling down

           the velocity of seconds