I
I beat a trash can like a drum
in the alley behind your house
at night when the stray cats gather
on the fence around my feet.
we are all going
to fly to the dark side of the moon.
II
I see the big sack of your skin,
hung up as if in a slaughterhouse
and God stuffs in your muscles,
your organs, your soul;
sews you up and throws you to earth
to land like a leaping antelope.
III
I curse the dawn licking the city skyline
clean of the octopus darkness.
I hold my rings up to the last star
and plunge back into the timelessness
of the dirty brick alleyways.
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