THE UNHOLY MISSONS (Bob Kaufman)

I want to be buried in an anonymous crater inside the moon.

I want to build miniature golf courses on all the stars.

I want to prove that Atlantis was a summer resort for cave

            men.

I want to prove that Los Angeles is a practical joke played

            on us by superior beings on a humorous planet.

I want to expose Heaven as an exclusive sanitarium filled

            with rich psychopaths who think they can fly.

I want to prove that the sun was born when God fell asleep

            with a lit cigarette, tired after a hard night of judging.

I want to prove once and for all that I am not crazy.

Bob Kaufman (c) 1965

Solitudes crowded with loneliness