from Suicide, 1964 (1st published collection, available on Amazon)
photography / poetry at craigmartingetz*com
The golden sheet they throw over you shines
like a jackpot even in the dark. It says,
Look at this thread of light I’m gonna rat.
Look at how crackled and marvelous the bat
left the windshield you hitherto looked right through.
Pee on me, melt Fort Knox on me, anything
in the name of gold. Bulldoze down the screamingest
Shiite temples no one dares dance around, all the Ohms
dangling on international flights, all the bullshit
24-karate leaf that ever occurred to a Swiss 5-star chef
to garnish chocolate cake on the shores of Lake Geneva with
and nothing, absolutely nothing will steal the show like me,
little ole crinkled me, upstaging every glorious ounce
of light from your dead body.