Invisible Rabbis

Sits on roofs drinking rum
Rests in forests, like indians,drunk, stroking his invisible rabinnical beard after using primitive technology
finding metal discs in the
opening of the rocks next to the waterfall.
Reminding me that They weren't happy just small,
driving through their forest frame in a picture
only I saw
And I will never leave him alone
with rocks, weeping at two in the morning
contemplating a life with broken feet, not a broken face
Endless conversations of the important and
unimportant
Why do people do the things they do?
Why could communism work, but won't?
Does "Charles Dickens" have balls for
how he dresses or is he a fag?
Watching over the world from a stool
behind a wall.
Yelling in the streets "We will talk about Nietzsche"
and silently reading it in his basement,
intoxicated elephants above us, dancing
but it never materialized
kisses on the forehead after enlightenment