After Image

Nobody can get inside me
until the angels get there first.
A vision stands scratching his wing on the other side.
Two angels fly among the trees.
O ocean that stops my blood
O sun! That dries it up
O clouds that carry it off
and the courage inside our tough organism
that loses life so easily.

Think what you want
about the uselessness
of art for art's sake,

or science as a social metaphor.

Neither can change
this world

or become a comrade to the enslaved
embittered masses
or a ruby in the elite crown
of the greedy few.

That is why nobody is allowed inside me
until the angels

bring their defiant message
to reconstruct the resumption
of life everlasting
of love, of hope.