If I could remember just a fraction
of what I said on the telephone
If he could take his clothes off
and sit on the banks of the Ganga
If she could see the profile of Caliban
in the smoke over the oilfieds
If we could just take off & go to Madagascar
If they would stop killing each other
and wake up tomorrow morning
w/ a new vision
I would stick my head in a printing press
and you could read tomorrow’s paper today:
EXTRA! EXTRA!
Read all about it
Poets’ brains prove to be useful!
P.S. Sometimes when I pick up my pen
it leaks gold all over the tablecloth.
Parole di mare, Amalfi, 2000.