The Rain
Robert Creely
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness?
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me,
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness, the fatuousness,
the semi-lust of intentional
indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
history (repeats itself)
Klaus Buhlert, Fay Lovsky, and Thomas Wilbrandt
From the Natural Born Killers Soundtrack
History repeats itself
coiling down into the future
when it's one second to twelve
the hands touch and follow deeper
History repeats itself
I didn't learn, I wouldn't listen
I couldn't see the books were on the shelf
For my concern
I never missed them
Wish I were standing by the shore
Feel the wind blow in my face
See the waves roll in for man and god
They take a bow
They know their place
I do not want to die—do not feel.
I've turned inward on myself
I can't find anything that's real
But history repeats itself.
choosing exits
Richard Fein
Given that you've come to a dead end
and are standing still at your greatest height,
peer over the ledge, peer over and choose.
The free-fall time after one possible choice
equals the square root of twice the distance
divided by the acceleration. Acceleration
is the gravity of all that's beneath your feet
pulling you down, which comes to 32 feet
per second squared, ignoring friction, of course.
Starting at your dead-end velocity of 0 would
give you 5 seconds to live with your decision,
5 seconds to consider how you can't change
your mind, once more ignoring friction, of course.
But you can never ignore friction. Friction
would be the wind slapping your face all
the way down. Or you could make another choice.
turn around and get off the roof, where
you shouldn't have gone in the first place,
exit the building by taking the elevator or stairs down, the way ordinary people leave at their day's end.