/crack/ (philo viveró)
the roll of thunder
or is it a jet plane?
"i hear it, too"
roll -- boom -- silence ; dead of night
the rain is falling to cleanse this surface
planet's surface -- maybe forty days will be enough
to soak the crustiest of stains
and break the stranglehold of the most evil ones
the snap of a firework
or is that a rifleshot?
do you hear it, too?
blood pools on the sidewalk next to me
my eyes flit as the spots of colour fill my vision
the roar of silence fills my ears -- a million voices
the night comes up as mind goes down
down, down to the cold ground -- thud
that angel is lovely, in her aura of rainbow colour
and she speaks to me in Babelonian tongue -- i understand
am i dead or dreaming? she leads me up & up & up to the white
white -- light -- voices -- "hello? -- how many fingers?"
the light comes up as the mind comes around
i have nothing left to prove the moment happened
except this nasty bump on my head
and the empty room
where she used to live.