no collection in communism
no community in church
no celebration of cynicism
no immunity from the lurch
into the future from the past
savory the salt of the earth
this moment will never last
so sweet the shock of mirth
the present cries a sigh aghast
sensing the futility of birth
of space between your fears
a garden filled with shit
and space between your tears
a desert with no flowers in it
ain’t nothing knew for years
when you should talk you spit
