Under Berlin sky

the Berlin sky is all set ablaze
w/ Fernsehturm candles & vertigo
cafes
where districts roll by like swans
in search of black&white angels
in search of our good' ole Nick
or some Cabaret
blazin'
revival
all footnotes
to heaven
& such...

weddings, funerals, orchestras...
shock rock guitars...
the whole avant-garde
in a single black dot
the hair-ties
& sunflower suits...

so the sky scans the crowds
on the lookout for patchy jackets
cheap worn-out stetsons
jeans & boots full of holes
or a field of sand to play in
to draw mandalas
& cease to wonder
to begin a life
at every shredded breath's corner
or find yourself in a room
full of strangers like snakes
& ladders to Jacob's
milkshake
dream
w/ one of your notebooks in hand
still empty...

get in line
for the casting:
One Second Assumption
A Lifetime of Sweat
& Repentance

perhaps Polanski's cut out
to make such a killer
real...

under Berlin sky we're bound to die
we're bound to reflect the mirroring
skyslide
certainty
we're bound to exist
on the U-bahn girl
single
handclap
the Irish songteller
D-flat
the red-bearded sailor's
stormwatch tale
on dead ship-clouds
in night's filthy bosom
or postcard
memoirs
or film noir
magicians
or Japanese tourist
hunters

gettin' tired of them anything pushers
crammed in underpasses
like stillborn projections
of death in a second
the seventy-seven times cheaters
& theater poster magic
all right at your feet from the whore's
balustrade
where you're standin' like Lili
herself
smilin'
eatin' the 5 mark tortilla
to get to the slut
in a minute or so

while the Fernsehturm candles blaze on...
blaze on like their name was Suzanne
blaze on like the
gamblers
be angels
or Jesus atop of his tower
the caring resentment's
groan

& the Fernsehturm's castin' her shadows...
the cup has a hole in the bottom...
& Lili will never quite patch her fishnets
or the very cheap
leather
jacket...

& the districts roll on like swans
& the districts care
for no
one