If I were the last man left on Mars
I would consult the Buddha
one final time

I’d meta-regulate my breathing
adjust the supply wires
and fuse my eyelids shut

I’d visualize that woman from Earth
with fuzzy narcotic-induced memory:

There’d be red lotus petals
cascading down from clear waves
and a moon cut sharply from the sky

We’d be tucked in seaweed
and caked in black sand

I’d leave her to collect driftwood
and smoke the dunes in a dense puff
while waiting for the Earth to expire



Filed under poetry

3 responses to “Mars

  1. Dude, you rock. Nice ending here.

  2. Thanks! This one is all yours if you want it.

  3. justin hyde



    read your poem on buchanski at haggard and hallo:

    enjoyed it. none of us can get out of that bastard’s shadow. it’s our unfortunate temporal cross to bear… suppose all we can hope for is to stay true to ourselves – – which can be a difficult task…

    take care,
    justin hyde.

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