Xerox

I just died again

So many lifetimes unfolded in one second

That I’ll have to make a xerox

And send you copies

An artist made of sand

Dissolves as he writes this

I woke up this mourning

And it was the future

I’m sitting here melting

Watching the sun go down in your eyes

Goodbye blue skies

Those lovely blue eyes

I had a record player once

But I had to sell it

The records kept ending

 Comments:

  This poem is about psychic attack and the avenues of expression.  And the dilemma of the ephemeral nature of where we find ourselves.