note to Lazarus:
at the moment i am
voodoo bound with the
help of incense and a
man who crowned himself
Buddha by candlelight
what a vision, what a night
paranoia isn’t the problem
but remembering to
breathe—no—remembering to
sing—like some kind of whiskey bird
or a high-pitched circus
this idea—it won’t
respond forever
like daffodils in the rain,
you know what i mean?
considering my head
is more of an idea than
an artificial moon
i may well be catapulting
needles in space
like a lonely hammer
or some post-nirvana
apocalyptic sun child
please advise
oh, dear
look at all the
space i’ve
neglected
just dropped in
this time tomorrow
he’s not there
The Used Life 
4 responses to “Note to Lazarus”
Wonderful.
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Thank you. I was in the mood to try something a little different. I’m happy you enjoyed it.
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Hold in reverence your Great Poetry of Transformation, and readers from the whole world comes to you. Comes to you without harm dwellers in common wealth dwells in the union of Heaven and Earth. Offer them art, music, wine, grass, and the passing guest will stay a while, but the molecular message in its passage through the poem is without time. It cannot be exhausted by read. It remains. 🙂
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Thank you, Jei. What wonderful remarks. I had fun writing this poem, and I am happy you think so highly of it. 🙂
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