MANUSCRIPT: PEDESTRIAN AGENDA © Luke Buckham 2001 Luke Buckham
Manuscript Contents:
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PEDESTRIAN AGENDA where are the teeth i need sharp & hard as freshly chiseled diamonds? i search old unwashed clothes & greasy gasoline basement floors for the life that leaked away from me when my eyes were filled with gold-framed paintings of distant fruit trees your eyes were duller than driveway quartz & pushed deep in their hollows when we danced each other through walls of glass and dissolved steel skeletons & came out into fields of black sand and green visible air skies clouded with spores floating in from frozen Pluto spores with IQs of 200 or higher (lack of oxygen is making the children goofy) is a car's grill a human face? a skyscraper an arm? a helmet a brain? a careless incision in the lower belly a singing mouth? a movie screen two lazy eyes merged into lucid one? scorched hair scratched pupils eyelashes flickering in concrete dust let's never talk about our bodies again or the newsmen's faces looking better than they ever have before i wouldn't mind being a cow in some podunk or that puddle of spilled soda over there or a bounty hunter with a laser-sighted crossbow firing origami arrows made from gov't intercepted love letters decades old the moon is square again & covered with fleas and i am as ready to sleep as a newborn baby breathing flu germs immediately upon birth my Uncle Alive walks across the Brooklyn Bridge his throat wrapped in unraveling guitar strings a chunk of flying brick grazes a petrified teenager's left ear and he realises that it's time to get laid |
