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This lab is hot, my mind

is on fire in the front of the rays.

I know i wont be able to sleep

 after im done.

The smoke wafts  

like incense in a temple and i want to wave it onto myself, I wantto quaff the holy water

in the ersatz well at the bottom of the church.

Keep these hands busy in front of me;

they’ll be strapped to the handle bars

of a moving bike

soon. There won’t be a place

to take a hot shower or a pen

to stick the contents of my mind to a page.

There wont be me,

just the tumbling wind

and the petrified plastic bags,

and the billowing clothes hanging to dry,

 and the hot hot muscles moving

 like a marionette, masterminded

by mercurial adrenaline

that might quit the minute a car cuts

my impetus. Got to stick with the torque,

the gyrating wheels,

man’s greatest creation, next to high heels,

which I left on the floor next to a silent pile of refuse

waiting patiently to be swept outside.

Ive forgotten myself in this inimical heat,

that makes my head go light and flaccid,

spinning like the asphalt rolling rolling by

beneath my wheels,

becoming one with wheels, slicing

the space between pebbles and particles,

and frames of references in paintings:

mountains and skies and flapping hawks

and greens with reds, and spots and stripes,

and shadows with shapes, and endless

contiguous courtyards with faces

that match and mismatch and melt.

The faster i ride the hotter i get.

My mind steams out of control. 

This entry was posted on Friday, October 12th, 2007 at 2:07 am and is filed under Nakia's Posts, Group Posts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.