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POINT OMEGA POSTPONED

Look a fuckin giant piece a money
says one old bar goat to another
tickets waft out the door
lizards in synthesis with leaves
wind sidewalk portals
local soil pack roots of alien trees
innocents come into their shadows
screened naked by tunnels
new light from old lamps,
waning

Tumults of dark doves
from a cleft in the rock
where a spring stopped
gushing
clear water moss lips
retreating
moccasins weathered on the pointed stones
for the bulls-eye climber: he puts himself in danger
for the excitement of afterlives
afraid of the cops on TV
or catching an axe-slit with his palm, tenderly

Someone is filling my windowsill skull
with sprigs of basil, and clover
Look a fuckin giant piece a money