We are dying tomorrow

 We are dying tomorrow
 All of us
  So act accordingly!

We are dying tomorrow so jump into the nearest ocean
Go drowning,
 Clutch your ankles and plow your way into oceanic history,
 Run down the Santa Monica Pier one more time,
Kiss an angel in murderer’s clothing
 Mean it!
Be furious,

We are dying tomorrow so clean the revolver on your bookshelf
Sharpen the blade you turn the pages with,
  EMPTY YOUR BOOKSHELF, give all your books away,

Throw yourself a funeral party,
 Take a pistol and fire it at fear,
Hold fast upon all horizons,
 Idealisms are dead!
 We are dying tomorrow all of us
  So act accordingly,
  Shine your shoes press your pants dry-clean your better judgments,
Get a job, burn down your office building!
  Take your mortgage out for dinner,
   Buy it a dress,
   Have dirty sex with it and never call it again!

 Tear down that old wall in your backyard, throw a tea-party for the bricks
Put up a fence in the front yard and paint it vomit colored
 Rip a moon-roof in your room’s ceiling with a rusty hammer

We are all dying tomorrow
  All of us so act accordingly,
There are no more shots to drink, no more cigarettes to smoke
Act accordingly!
 Get drunk, get high, live sober, live in the servile parts of town,
  Live in an alley, share your blanket with a fellow inmate
Steal a small child’s lollipop!
Stop surviving.
Finish that book,
 Finish that poem,
Finish your life,
 Act accordingly!

  Bed down with a good woman, bed down with a good man
Leave that conniving fuck you call significant other and
 Fuck a poet instead!

Every time a poet is fucked (properly) ten dictionaries in large corporation bookstores
Immediately combust on their shelf!
Get your palm read.
 Share a sandwich with the reader.
Go see the Serengeti, get into a fist fight with a sandstorm.
 Throw a javelin into your television and then buy it therapy sessions.
Go running uphill while feeling down,
 Take a hike catch a ride,
Find a depressed tree and psychoanalyze its dreams
(convince the bark that the roots are cheating on it)—
Catch the sunrise with a fist for someone you love.
 Hoist the moon’s skirt.
Do a dance and call it post-post-modernist expressionism,
 Waltz with your shadow down a busy street; make sure to act like a bad dancer.
(step on your shadow’s toes)
Live like a fury and die with no shudders
Because we’re all going
 All of us, tomorrow—
Play the glorious instrument in your head that is the love-child of piano and guitar with the guts
of an accordion the smile of a harmonica and the voice of Billie Holiday through a
transistor radio!
Pound the keys.
Take a vote. Overthrow your priorities!
Stop being democratic with your fucking life!
(it resents you for it)-
Let’s leave it all on the floor
(I’ll speak as eyes speak)—
Let fingertips be the UN interpreters of our mutual fascinations with each other
Let hands be the rhythm by which we profess ineffable feelings of want
Let the pulse in our chests grip at each other in ethereal embracing skin-touch
 Let history between us be written by drunken seraphim that have no direction home
Let poetry be the contact lenses reconstructive laser surgery of our love intentions
Let un-reciprocation tango with senseless one night stands and rebirth it into holy bohemia
  Let the poignant I-you-it be the only reason we are really living—

Never forget,
We are dying tomorrow all of us
  So act accordingly…