come to us

 

Hers is us says the moon
waterless
arid
baked
bald
but not barren
there is a name for dessicated
coconut moon
no song text available
“Free of income tax, old man,”
Lime
twinkles …
he knows
Harry’s incoming crimes
the happiness of
yes, yes, yes
the barbarous fading to black, mine
“here to us” the echo maintains
sappy gap of a guess
birch stick &
hey, mole catcher
hearse to us

 

 

so that nobody is coming to rescue
lush …
smug replete …
jiffy stand of flames
shooting up behind the pyre
of brumby’s flit on a meadow near greifswald
to meet pop eye’s jug
to get rid of kimantsi, the enemy
to get rid of kimantsi, Schimanski
folk luck or
Zabou, proletarian living

 

Hey, good day to the flow of information
the rugged snatches of city life
not a dollop of truth
dolloping
to teach uncertainty,
moon solace doubt
hesitation
the honour of
minorities
the beige jacket: “Zabou”

come to us to wear your hair loose
forget the buffalo scalp noose
come to us
to the intolerable grammar
of code talkers
to the rambling illness of rambler ridicule
come to us
to the semisolid lump of
anti-fascist action …

come to us

come to us

don’t join us

simply remember …
(whenever swift Johnsons are boarding
eye Samuel’s gust)

(where swift Johnsons are boarding
flash back to Samuel’s gust )

 

Martina Gertrude Siebert

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