a realist song

i dreamt of you last night walking in the rain
we held hands once
my shadow and yours
sunk in the bed of a mystical river
we sipped ginger tea and honey

i read the diaries of unknown friends
the news of raging madness
reaches my ear lobes too often of late

our children's lungs breathe the slow train of destruction

the paranoid plot simmers
the ice melts and endangered whales are culled
new species of alien are sown in fields of falsity

we walked hand in hand
balancing pints of stout in brown paper bags
we had many vaguely pleasurable moments


we once took to the streets
to throw our anger at the mind occupiers
from over barricades of fibs
fiercely guarded by black truncheons of faith

1990 Union Square New York

three thousand unpublished poems later
i am caught underground
listening to gusting cold winds whistle down the Thames

things are much worse
the proliferation of craziness at an all time high

i know there is a war out there
but i don't want victims
i don't want my anger to close in a fist
i have to keep words flowing from these fingers
pouring molten promise into lost causes
i just want to register these dry stone paths of word
i will have as many names as events will assign me

i have you my funny milk and honey face
our wonderful hilarity

i need nothing else today