This poem is for a specific person and a specific place. Support your local art house.
Silver Storm (Spell)
cut it with weed and shipped it to you.
Eggshells and grass, all that was left.
***
Before my heart could be burnt
it first had to be celluloid:
personhood upholstery,
tacking up our lives
with minimal loss of
humanity.
***
What we saw we all know
but few who still know me
care to remember
or remember in jest,
falsehoods, christ
in a jet I need to remember
the heat of a theater
in desert december.
A froth from the beer,
the smoke from death's door
always begging for more,
friend have a smoke with me
film's got an hour or more...
***
They smoked arteries
to ash, and they are going
pave over my heart, buddy
pal, friend, only your eyes
and mine see how quick
comes an end....they are
going to pave over the
place where we met.
***
I'm fine half the time
(though none ask anymore
not a soul but you)
half the time I belong
to ink and ink only,
phrases and tedium,
your lightning laugh dashes
cross the obsidian waves
to anchor me. Captain,
where next? You clutch
the wheel, I'll light the crow's
nest, of my million friends your
one of the best. And you've seen
it, pearl leviathan, celluloid kraken,
eternal life, your soul for a token,
when treasure is hidden every
steamboat be toakin'.
We have to paint the map first.
***
I'm fine half the time
the other half I still
write. If your lost,
turn your eyes
to the 16th arcana for light.
(The film, about pirates, ends and I wake
in a vast, red theater I don't remember. The
horror of this strikes me and I hear a cool
voice say 'go back to sleep, the film is not
over' no sooner than that I smell they are
still burning my celluloid heart above
in the booth.)
***
I smoked my heart to ash,
cut it with weed and shipped it to you.
Smoke the eggshells and grass,
crack through the pavement and shoot.
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