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Overcast  ( for Gregory Corso )

you look like
                Artaud
                         Louie
all thin days
               & ghastly nights
grey & rain threatening
                          maybe Geronimo (looked like this)
not unseen sunsets
or forgotten years
the red white & blue flag    drooping
  & slowly unfurling     in a           soft cool wind
                                                        sheltered yet vagrant

you say   "I can't breathe"     your back hurts badly    i mean badly
          "please" you say -
                                you look like
the old pale brick   across the way
these white walls of your room
the grey carpet filled with cigarette burns
your ashen skin filled with tracks
the small red & blue tattoo
the brightest thing about this fairly airy room.

your long  still  perfect     fingers
           she holds
- NO MORE STOMACH - you say     "yes it's still there" she assures you  rubbing it

your eyes roll up toward your brow
then down toward the cold glass of water
as it approaches you

you look like Socrates   if he would have lasted this long     toga intact
or any fallen hero with an attitude
who might have been able to make it to the end of the line -

                    the end of the line
where is it? / chair / bed / unicorn /        "MY BACK"  you say  "MY BACK"

"the sky"   says chicken little  the  sky..............................

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