dangerous straits of the between

Mouth fills w/ taste of copper.
Chinese paper. Foreign money. Old posters.
Gyro on a string, a table.
A coin spins. The faces.

There is an audience to our drama.
Magic shade mask.
Like the hero of a dream, he works for us,
in our behalf.

How close is this to a final cut?

I fall. Sweet blackness.
Strange world that waits & watches.
Ancient dread of non-existence.

If it's no problem, why mention it.
Everything spoken means that,
its opposite, & everything else.
I'm alive. I'm dying.


Morrison