Fear of Death on an Airplane
And it was night — what a
Night it must be.
The maiden, the bottle, and the blessed dream.
With difficulty I have sown
my seed in the heart
of the nation.
I’ve injected the core into the vein of spiritual blood.
Now I embrace the poetry
of business and become — for
a while — “Prince of Industry.”
Born leader, poet,
Shaman, with
a clown’s soul.
What am I seeking
in this Arena
of bullfights?
All public figures
compete to become Leaders.
The watchers by the Grave,
the spectators of unrest.
Fear of Eyes,
of Killings.
Drunkenness is a good disguise.
I drink so that I
can speak with scoundrels.
Horror of business.
The feeling of Guilt
for Money —
do I deserve it?
Meeting.
I must get rid of Managers and agents.
After four years, what remains is
a consciousness
hard as a steel hammer.
I repent for lost nights
and years spent empty.
Over all this I have urinated,
Oh American music.
An end, with dear farewells
and plans for the future.
No longer an actor,
nor a writer — filmmaker.
Which of my cells
will be remembered?
Farewell, America,
I have loved you.
Money from home —
with luck,
stay away from trouble.
