The Future Is One Of Place
By Brian Kim Stefans
The future is one of place
devoid of race.
A jawbone under a sock
is a geological clock.
The plunking of rain
on the termite-riddled windowpane:
reading a Bible on that ledge
is a tiny college.
A Galápagos tortoise is killed
(or, simply, unwilled).
The Ebola virus weeps, or retires,
because, like us, it tires.
Meanwhile, below the subbasement,
a Suede Revolution:
the phlegmatic skill of the cryptographer
soixante-huitards the teleprompter.
The id in facsimile
is suspended on a leash,
twisting in the rain
above that goddammed windowpane.
Being is slightly corrupted
by the Thinking that’s one-upped it
(like the pun on pain)
and will never love again.
Copyright © by the owner.
