Poets should save us from happiness
Out in the lab they are studying the natives
I vowed to stay cryptic
As I am keeping you posted
About the joys of life
And as I touch you 
As if we exist
I will keep looking in design books
For shapes that help the world
Drag its infinity behind

The poor don't exist
They die
Then reincarnate even poorer
Trapping nightmares
An excuse for voice over
& flying objects exporting intimacies
Try us again tomorrow
We would have marked the streets
With over the counter banalities

Life is browse-able
& it can be substituted for salt
It is also sufficient to conduct few experiments 
(Over and over)
The class war is founded on good mathematics
And death is an old fashioned calculus
That will always arrive suddenly
To help cure fifteen layers of sadness

Back to the conceptualism of rain
Under the burden of choosing sides
A skinny sniper sends his bullets
Into Harold Bloom's guarded Canon
What is the ethics of fucking
Under civil war manufactured tweets?
I draw my line at 3:00 p.m.
And at crosswalks of trees
The desert will come and go
As often as rain

All I can afford
Is a small scale metaphysics
Enough to run a rented apartment
With borrowerd Wi-Fi - in order
To watch a faraway war
Or book maintenance appointments
A small enough metaphysics
To invite an angel or two over
& cook them hot water
In exchange of divine secrets
A small en epistemology
To go with it
So I can read cookbooks
& cartoons about Spinoza
Or few haikus

My son taught me to eat cheese pizza
I do and think that
Airports are erotic entities
And words will stay words
Despite poetry
And while at it
Stories too don't end
They only get interrupted by death
Then continue...

The dust is part of the city
And of love
It is scattered over a drawing
Describing an eventual death
I am succumbing to the density of stairs
Until i am tired enough
To accept that the heat 
And the sleeping around
To matter
Or to mean 
As if the The DADAists taught us nothing
As if thet just abandoned their bicycles and collages
And we said nothing in return
We really said nothing in return

Death happens to others
Meanwhile we fly everywhere 
To praise its effects
Like a nomad
I am sure
Cairo is an abstraction
Despite its existence 
To amuse us about tears

the gestures of the world 
are enough
everything here is exact
as if God never left
and as if there is time

don't date him
& sit here with me
to discuss the employability of clouds
we can also pick apples
& drive around without kissing
did you know that we can turn our phones into flashlights
and interrogate each other
it can be fun 
to be inspired by the world
but to improve the situation
there is only one way: fucking
which comes as a surprise to most passengers
in the space station

software dumps itself
on our skulls, in beautiful hexadecimals
I mean: the world is garbage
there is nothing better than aging
which is helpful to imagine
since childhood repaints itself in mp3's 
it taunts us 
as we take a vow of silence 
and let the prosecutors finish their tea