Wednesday, February 4, 2009


When I don't sleep like this
I am not here, and if you
were to walk into this room now
you would hear music I am not hearing
because it long transported me far...

Why do we think only
when we can't act fully;

So now they are going to talk again;
and those who should talk
cannot talk anymore
when mobile companies charge in Forex.
So now we can't afford
To make our mothers back home
Afford to talk to us,
that's even before we know
what they are not going to get
in the stores, which will laugh--
the shelves will--at them
when they shovel out
the local currency....

But perhaps I should sleep
and dream that dream again
of my walking in the village
pockets full of US Dollars
wondering into village shops
where open-mouthed store-keepers
had no use for my green bills
and so I would wake up
to learn to exchange my currency
before I left the city....

But when I don't sleep like this
I don't want to be here
because here all you hear are words
at the root of which
is hope for those who learned
long before we knew to suspect
that when worse comes to worst
the best of the worst will
kill simple desire
before even hope
learns to fly....

You can try now;
try to haul me to bed
with the promise of dreams
where fish fly, and birds crawl
with beaks, while snakes stand tall
Not to remember at all
anyone ever telling them to rule....

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