Thrills of fear,
nearer than the vein in my
neck.
What if I opened my soul to sing to my absolute self,
singing as the car crashed chomped through blood and muscle tendon skull?
What if I sang and loosed the cords of
fear brow?
What exquisite noise
would shiver my car companions?
I am the universe,
tonight riding in all my power, riding,
chauffeured through myself
by a long -haired saint with eye glasses.
What if I sang till students knew I was free of Vietnam,
trousers, free of my own meat,
free to die in my thoughtful,
shivering throne,
freer than Nebraska, freer than America?
May I disappear in magic joy smoke, poof, reddish vapor, Faustus vanishes,
weeping and laughing sitting under stars on Highway 77 between Beatrice and Lincoln.
Better not to move, but let things be,
Preacher.
We've already all disappeared.
Space highway open, entering Lincoln, Nebraska's ear,
ground to a stop, tracks, warning, Pioneer Boulevard.
William Jennings Bryan sang thou shalt not
crucify man kind upon a cross of gold
Oh baby doe minds,
gold's department store hawks over 10th Street now
An unregenerate old fobble
didn't want to be a monkey
And now is the highest perfect
wis dom dust
and Rachel Lind say's poetic cries sur vives,
compassionate in the high
school anthology.
A giant dormitory brilliant
on the evening plane drifts
with his memories.
There's a nice white door over there for me,
oh dear, on Zero Street.