—-s—-
—-s—-
inside the stardust stew
coffee on the leader’s face
the newspaper spills the story
the police are on their way
we’ve had a time of it for sure
this flying territory,
an incorporeal place of abject subjugation, landing only
to dispense cruelty, made romantic
by the distance at which we see it
after taking off again
(the earth is always fine when one is in the air)
this is history
if only we could forget it
start over
realize that regardless of how
infinite in truth and truly beautiful
inside the cavity of false hindsight
the past may be
– we no longer need it, not anymore
(for ch)
—-s—-