USA

salvo@jps.net 

Biochemical Nudity

Between the nucleus and the wall,
between the self and other,
exact and perfect individuals,
cross-cultural hunks of plasm,
detach from the larger body
and shake their chains, releasing their gasp,
transmitting while receiving outlandish
communication from the cosmic brigade.

Strung out along the line of time, the mind,
chained to the fateful body,
whether put with a gun to guard or a bowl to beg,
replys with hunger, fear, or loathing,
raising up regiments to feed the machine,
propagating, evading, replacing until,
midempire, we stand in our accumulation,
while our victims' descendents,
peering from the twilight,
aching to slake their thirsty steel,
watch our bones totter unpitied into the wind.

Commencement

It's the same path again in the ready wood,
a steady stride in autumn's final blaze,
a moment in the long visit,
a pause to let the breeze feel my bones.

How the new son does strut
among the fallen leaves and the women
clutch their coats to keep their heat
while sparrows cheerfully bathe in the frigid puddle.

Remembered for their temporal beauty,
too common, too colorful, an annoyance to workmen,
the wind-driven strengthless leavings tumble
and huddle against the cold stone
as their dry husks rust away.

© All Copyright, 2000, Jim Strope.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.