Criss Cross
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Thursday, 01 December 2005 10:21 |
friday the 13th
for mike liebler
any day can be the lucky one, or the one with your number
written all over it, 123 507 in the poet's case, walking out
the front door of the penitentiary, 8:30 p.m.
14 years ago today, 2 times 7 years the cycle of struggle, to make it through
in one piece, on the yard or in these streets, anyone who can pick up a frying pan
owns death, burroughs said, & sometime in new york city coming back from the recording studio,
walking up to his front door, john lennon with a gun stuck in his face,
oh, oh, sweet giant of song, with heart of huge dimension
& eyes deep in the sky, there has to be a day when each of us must pass
beyond this tedious sphere, to enter some wondrous place of which we do not know
whether we're ready or not, some other place or space out of time
where no punk with a weapon will ever press you again or blow off your face
out of the depths of his madness, no one will hold us
against our will in a cell with bars in front & back, 6 feet by 4 feet
by 8 feet high, no one will take us out of our natural lives
& send us away from here by means of some murderous fantasy in which we are denied
everything we have lived for oh please let us die at the end of our own time
& not before, free in our world of strife, let us have life
as long as we can & please, let there be men like monk & john lennon
to share of their hearts & light up our ways as long as we may live
detroit friday, december 13/ december 30, 1985 |