“We’re in repose,” you said,
“The violent are turning upon the violent
and generations sit in the middle
staring out into the night
though it exists, but
within a garden of iron flowers.”
I wish to ask, are they rusty? but refrain
answering your observation,
How different are the sunsets
when you are facing east!
Your eyes staring at the ivy
digging into the mortar,
Reality gets thrown into the superman,
commercials into the tired plots of television.
During this winter of’77 when
the gas and fuel suddenly stopped
and routines became as active
as the mouse sliding through the snake,
What else is there to do but repose,
either that or freeze –.
Dreams create complacency
as we become the super-cop who solves
all crimes of passion —
we are the passion
passive in our character masks,
and our transparent underwear
which we put on — take off
in private.