[kj] btats inside cover

[fatpotanga]

Here it is:

Oppenheimer quotes the Bhagwad Gita
 "The atomic energy commission formulated its research policy in a series of
meetings, 
 the most important one held at Bohemian Grove..."

I want to walk this new land.
 Twisted iron. Fine, cream-colored dust
 covers everything, the slippers I slip into.
 They are melted together
 like a woman¹s wrist bones.
 I did not ask to look.
 But she lives in the umbra of silence
 beseeching me, stump-arms lifted.

It has been years 
 since the night-clad car pulled up
 alongside my stride.
 I was barefoot, a refugee
 with physics under one arm.

I was escorted to where tall redwoods
 spoke with their thousand-year breath.
 I wanted to listen to their story
 of quiet moisture and verve--

but human voices swelled in crescendo,
 begging me for molecular secrets,
 for the white heat of light.
 The redwoods swayed, turned skyward

as I do now. Rain pelts, fast and gritty,
 turns ashen. Around me, faces, wet faces
 so tranquil I could swear
 it isn¹t blood, but just sleep,
 dripping from their mouths.

Now wind, my upturned umbrella:
 ribs displaying themselves, open, captive,
 under thick cloud-jaws.
 Brighter than a thousand suns
 I am become death, destroyer of the worlds.

I find water, drink. It lights up,
 a fiery eye scorching sleep.


On 13/5/05 7:58 pm, "Alexander Smith" wrote:

> I remember hearing that it was a Sanskrit prophecy about the apocalypse.


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