Twenty-One Gun Salute Poem by Chance Foreman

Twenty-One Gun Salute



Two mountains rose and fell
She whispered in his ear
“I want more”
The tidal wave collapsed
And he relapsed
And plunged in to her again
Twenty-one gun salute
The headlines ran
And the two towers collapsed
And formed a pyramid
That for some odd reason had the gift of sight
His eyes opened wide
And he screamed
“Ginsberg, Ginsberg, holy holy, holy is holy!
And chance and probability collided
In that very instant
52 years in the past
Or as he liked to look at it
The present
Allen Ginsberg
Lifted a seashell to his ear
And heard an echo
Now back
We sail
In wooden shoe…
His mouth closes on her nipple
Her back arches
Her lips open
And a melody escapes
The first word stars with the letter L
And the last word ends with the letter U
And space ship earth spins its bloody way through time.

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