Back in the cafe again!
My lover tried to take me to the park, to see the sun in person.

But no, I must be back in the thick of Babylon,
Darling, the home of the best and the worst of our culture
(says a man who told me he no longer writes poetry but simply
dances, sings, and shouts it)
The coffee-geomancy of our culture
The gathering-place of our tribe
Here we meet in silent places where everyone
is getting their will-to-power out on paper (not survival of
the fittest, mind you, but survival of the literalist)

But the city won't save you! The city will NOT save you.
My love keeps telling me this, and I know the cities will be,
paradoxically, the destruction of our culture, yet all of my
addictions are there!

So, where to go when the cities no long hold for us any beauty?
When culture is nothing but a brain-wash and you know you can't
read a book, meet a lover, build a house, or have a child, to
tell you what's real?

We all want to know, we do! It's such an old theme that it's
an embarrassment on paper, it is.

I want to meet all elders that have faith (in what? those that say
they know, know not, those who say nothing, know all . . . and yet, when
the truth can be told so as to be understood, it will be believed) and ask
them how and when.

Jacob told me that a man healed him by pulling a "thing" out of his throat.
I want mine out!

Jack told me that if I joined the fight to save Cougar Springs,
I would realize a power much greater than myself. That it would take me with it
and use me. Sounds good to me . . . I never had any power, anyway. Yet, I 'm addicted
to Babylon. (Why? the countryside is sweet, and it feeds us to our heart's delight)

But why spoil it with my citified-self? Why not let it be without me? I've already
contributed enough to its demise.

Well, don't mind me. . . it's just coffee-shop talk, really. I'll just have one more cup, and I can walk out of this place anytime.