Apocalypse, 1988


Text: Willliam S. Burroughs, Edition: 90

Page 5
Skyscrapers scrape rents of blue and white paint from the sky, shredding, peeling, nitrous ochres and red eat through bridges, which fall into the rivers splashing colors across – my back I always hear – piers, streets AMOK art – Hurry up please, its time – floods inorganic molds – Times winged chariot hurrying – stirring passion of – near. Closing time gentlemen – metal and glass steel – these our actors as I foretold you – girders writhe – actors frantically packing in theatrical – mineral lust – hotels… are all spirits.