the universe
ray heinrich
upstairs
the rice cooks
and i
must be mindful
of the time
the rice
is not forgiving
done
at a certain time
ready
or gone
i
feel like rice
feel like the long ago
empty plain filled
with rice or wheat or
if necessary
high stalks of corn
lighted by a full moons light
lighted so they direct
our
full attention
to
the flash of weapons firing
the mental
the physical
pieces of metal
fast enough to spin through you
tearing whatever cells happen
to be in the way
out
off
gone
holes
you or i
won’t mention the blood
the red
the original red
not read
as you’re doing now
but red
as the light likes
the inside of us
rejoices when the skin must split
must give way
to the pure color of red
becomes a fountain
celebrating
the end of life
celebrating
the constant suffering
which makes us
pure
even as the portraits of
nixon and
stalin and
reagan and
some germans i won’t name
grin over us
yes
they don’t understand
in their illness
in their constant need
for attention
but we
have only to look
in their direction
to help them
to kiss their useful lips
we
a part of the constant pain
of weapons
of words
of the separation
of germ plasma
of DNA
we are
completely similar
arguing for the fun of it
killing our neighbors
just like the crabgrass
ignoring
the continuity
of us and snails
tragic?
no
the continuity of time
requires all of this
we
are along for the ride
and we kill
and we burn
whoever
we
want
random
molecules
compel
there is no
blame
and
from a place
way too high
to lean
into the wind
to fall
over and over
pointing
if possible
pointing up
so you don’t
see the ground approaching
see the ground
which
in seconds
will crush
your skull
your body
will end
all this talking and words
will end
all this questioning
will end
this complete vacuum
which we call
the universe
the self
