ride into
the sun…that’s the fun
of someone
playing with the dial
the airwaves
are filled with laughter
chirps and
easier miles per hour
(life’s
speed is an abstruse motion
every second flashes on the charged
space and cracks the ancient blocks
dust holds it last
(he who
crawls in mud gets enough
to spit…he may then suspect matter
ain’t all yet falls prey to its claim
-it goes something like this…he
builds sandcastles on the beach…waits
for the tide to flood it all…gets up
and happy as he only knows, gets on)
thus you
get to palm beach australia
further on
awaits you rimini
maybe the
red sea –who can tell-
it’s a
matter of taste and health
you may
know the day’s time and place
though the
dial shows you nil…and you
hope for
the end of one fine day
when you’ll
have to move from zero)
i have
waited too for the waves
to break at
the angels’ bid –here
it’s radio
gaga- and the barge’s
on the way (the
dj insists)
we lay back
the sun has
set and the sea roars
the deep
dark close to the brain…and
to be sure
that this day made any
sense (like
a road flying birds songs
or the
horizon) we must move on
exactly
after midnight with total
volition
and at our most leisure
