The Be-Coming of NewMedia
The Be-Coming of NewMedia
Envisioning ArtForms for Be-Coming Ages;
You have visited my imperial closet
You have taken from it—All that you wish
Now I will dress myself
In that—Which matches
In a vague—And—Indefinable way
I will be encased in
Tin trousers
And electrical neckties
Jackets like coffee cups
And pear-gray shirts
I will be an actor
In a performance—For Dionysus
Who will reward me—With
An automobile
A phonograph player
And sitcoms
And women bearing—Fruit
And—A mile of thought
And—A Thursday longer than nature

But did I tell—To you
That she sometimes beat me with a w hip
And—She took me by the hand
When we went for walks
And—She took
My pee-pee
In her undulating hand
And—Then the leaves
So generous—Just so I could cleanse myself
Of—My many sins
How lucky I was—To have such a generous
I became an adult
At the lovely age of ten
A man
With soul so dead
Who—To himself
Has never said
This is my own
This is my native land
Whose heart—Has never
Within him—Burned
This is the Becoming of
So now—The man
His feet cindering
In the pyre
On—The verge of flames
Ready to fly—Just as does the Phoenix
Perched—I there in the pyre
Ready to fly
Into the wild dark yonder
Alone—Once again