after the revolution
there will be wine under the trees
there will be forms of love shaped like the great bear
when i say my love is a native in another country
i will be telling the truth
i will plunge my head deep into your wine dark cunt
the moist lips like the lapping of salt water rolling past
my ears folding back upon my neck and then i’ll breathe hard
bread will be scarce and everyone will eat it
when the revolution comes
romance will be finished
but what is begun
after the revolution
when we are all exhausted like lovers
i will openly grope the delicatessen man with all my fingers
you and i will lie limpid and hungry
the problem of food distribution will debilitate the cause
but the scent of liberated loins
and the glorious autumn weather
will keep our cocks erect
when the revolution comes
you will be standing at the prow and the salt wind
blows in your face
for hundreds of years you dreamt of the ocean
now you are wet
Julian Beck
Painting: Marc Chagall
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