Maybe Riots

imagine the devastation
the Louvre in flames
a deep chemical white
sure to melt and pervert
what it doesn't make to soot
wailing in the streets, i think
Paris and Sao Paulo and New York in vigil

so what of his mind
lowly translated in four small books
just ninety half-filled pages in one
his mind in a chemical burn
forgetting Michiko and Japan
and the trees he walked to cry loudly enough for her,
Linda catch them please,
the ashes out of his ears,
so that someday the world
can find the right hysteria
to mourn them
that these works won't even remain
in a dead brain,
yeah, hysteria, i think
maybe riots

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