I
sleep in wheelbarrows, rusted with splinters on the handles and every morning
I’m dumped out so the wheelbarrow can be put to some other use. If I had my way
I would never sleep. I would return to the full passage of the night, haunting
the darkness, stalking it, till even the darkest most desolate corner would
flee from me in terror. Instead I have wheelbarrows, red, with new treading on
the tires. Wheel me out to the blanket of stars and let me drift aimlessly in
space, in that place between our galaxy and the next, let me drift. Only then
will my life make any sense as I drift by the occasional alien juice bar. In
space no one can hear you dream. Gravity is no longer my master. I tie a
surfboard leash to my leg and the wheelbarrow and dive into the abyss. Floating
like Huck Finn down the river, listless, sun drenched and free. Biscuits, dried
apricots and a tab, out here there are no horizons, no dried up riverbeds, just
the ghost of Lady Macbeth and the madness we share. I think that light on the
left is Heaven, but we are floating in the opposite direction while Lady
Macbeth sings, “Let it be”, although out here there is nothing to let and
nothing to be; just a river that flows into a sea of sadness and a charcoal
background that shines brighter than the memory of my soul. Goodbye memories,
let me float till I dissolve and become one with the charcoal.
there’s
nothing here i hope or fear
a
passenger will never steer
i
roast the chestnuts of my mind
strawberry
cake and apple wine
wheelbarrows
go where they are pushed
while
aardvarks root through weed and bush
and
apple trees ask honey bees
to
pollinate eternity
and
when i have finished my ride
they’ll
then subject me to the tide
***
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