tomorrow

tomorrow

(these safe streets are dead) we termintate return to Paris, Montmartre our heads alert the riots in the distance and the disarming



the emergency act first time since 68



but what hope for




still the night of tourists has ceased.





in Paris hours later fear crackles the air
the hungry are a hunting
I read of a rat at a woman`s nipple
can this be true
the great disgust it arouses





what scene of destruction and waste, carnage of human effort and lies, the greed the machine invents and makes each moment each day. burning burning cars, wheels, buildings . why kill your own selves but what rage rage causes them I know and cannot know I am the dead one among them I am nothing I am the white expiry hopes of their death(s)



and birth .




god protect them in the crazed pandemonium of violence

the children of greed and empire Multitude as death
and the long lines of escape and upward moving Mankind maybe lost
maybe lost maybe maybe forever

or like a lost lover
found and refound
again



In gare de Nord the sounds of gunfire and running

In le gard du Nord there is no poetry