the final flower

 
 
worms reading
Dante with
joy
 
the terrible knowledge  
of knowing  
 
night hours laying still
like a whore
waiting
to be
paid
 
the horse cut from the
team and refusing to
escape  

(the final flower still
waits)
 
bones of old god things
dug up and given to
dogs
 
the nightmares of
atavistic Crete
burning  your
lips with
indecision
 
the engine of the mind
refusing to turn over
in the artic wars
of the day to
day
 
the death of the last
Nightingale
 
the death of death  
laughing at the beastful
absurdity of it
all

(the final flower still
 reaches out to the
 tears of a crying
 sun)

finding the lost continent  
of Atlantis at the
bottom of your
cereal
box
 
the running of the bulls
in Pamplona thru the
suicide tears of
Hemingway  
 
the Phoenix down
for a ten
count
 
a blind man looking  
for the sun at
midnight  
 
the longing for love
while looking at a  
sink full of dirty
dishes

(the final flower still
 breathes)
 
the abstract notion of
reality existing in a
bag of chocolate  
cookies
 
the sound of murdered  
romance knocking on
your door at
midnight  
 
the translucent watery  eyes
of an old man eating
his memories while
sitting alone in
some neon
diner

(the final flower still
 loves)
 
floods will flood then  
receed into  
deserts
 
wars will rage and
peace will give no
notice
 
body counts will rise
and never look
back
 
the final flower
will mourn
 
the final flower  
will never
forget
 
the final flower holds
the  knowledge of  
ancient spring
rains  
 
the final flower
will never
surrender