errol miller
Holy, Holy, Holy
C,od Alm!43ht-Y, we're
liuman--lize, avant--garde individuals
snaking tlirougli ttie timestream, students
,DE ai-i ideal world we're riot very smart ii-,
social situations, pushing and shoving, cc)i--ivii-icifty
the rambunctious crowd from Chicago we're rat!-.er suave
and debonair., in summary art belongs to itself,
it up again for display in this time, this place.
In the late 20th Century AD
there came a day at summer's end, flapping
like a fish, filled with historical implications,
wormwood bones and mummys wrapped in Delta-cotton.
Movement towards conclusion. If not the bomb then
just plain oll hearts collapsing from overload.
Such surrealism, such danger embedded i.n
the fleshy minds of men, seeking refuge
in little country taverns, seeking refuge
in absurd American cities whose broad shoulders
drooped with criminal elements. Beyond
the limit of lurid dreams, an awesome, distant
charting, sad cafes with curtains drawn, symposiums
on mere existence, and Futuristic paintings
of gleaming deserted skyscrapers, bellies
bulging seasick tenants.
