THIS ISN'T CHINA

Hold me close

and tell me what the world is like

I don't want to look outside

I want to depend on your eyes

and your lips

I don't want to feel anything

but your hand

on the old raw bumper

I don't want to feel anything else

If you love the dead rocks

and the huge rough pine trees

Okay I like them too

Tell me if the wind

makes a pretty sound

I'll close my eyes and smile

Tell me if it's a good morning

or a clear morning

Tell me what the fuck

kind of morning it is

and I'll buy it

And get the dog

to stop whining and barking

This isn't China

nobody's going to eat it

 

Okay go if you must

I'll create the cosmos

by myself

I'll let it all stick to me

every dismal pine cone

every boring pine needle

And I'll broadcast my affection

from this shaven dome

360 degrees

to all the dramatic vistas

to all the mists and snows

that move across

the shining mountains

to the women bathing

in the stream

and combing their hair

on the roofs

to the voiceless ones

who have petitioned me

from their surprising silence

to the poor in heart

though they be rich

to all the thought-forms

and leaking mental objects

that you get up here

at the end of your ghostly life