Marx in City Parks While She's in Paradiso

One could deduce the rate of soul-

flow through the machine,

were one so clever.

--

Given:

The tempo is 17^th and Market.

Here and there something horrible beats

inside a human chest.

We're aware that something horrible beats
inside a human chest.

I'm here, still;
A dynamo,
While
Your off

Being off

Somewhere

Warm -

You can spend a lifetime here underground.
Eyes down here are sharp. Adapted for
Clocks!

Observe:

This Guy-At-Precisely-3-O'clock.
He's gotta 
Dusty dusty shag carpet cough, and
              he's

Leaning farther in the seat then there's
Seat
         to sit.

You'll never deep enough, dude;

The nails won't scratch that deep!
The throat.

Soon enough

Your head won't lift again.  All of it.

It'll all slide
To the corners of mouths

Where't'll pool cocoa green

And your teeth will rot

Moss fuzz and

You won't
                 care.

Ah my fellow fellow!

Something horrible awaits, under the split-flap clock,

If you've got the time to sink that far!
You wait.

--

I want
Answers.  

Who sleeps through Paradise?  And can green,
Green even green 
At all?

And Love,

When you return from scouring the globe for Eden,

I know

You'll return
With news that fruit is hand-picked and hegemony-free somewhere we can really be!

Without clocks

Falling on our heads

Forever and ever,

Amen.

JV