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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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