POEM BY CARLOS FLEITAS

Jim Morrison

What will it be, Jim Morrison,
wicked and challenging,
in your appetite of death,
in the unborn acid children,
in trance, vision and delirium:
Snake of fire and anihilation,
you gazed at,
in the burning desert of peyote.
What will it be, Jim Morrison,
poisonous and angelical,
in your scenic acrobatics,
in your measured plan of dizziness,
in the wizardry of your metaphors:
Streams and rivers of myth,
where you forged your own shaman's mask.
What was it then, Jim Morrison,
when the skies of irises and diamonds,
and the plains of moon and light,
suddenly faded out,
in the Apocalypse of your mind....

Carlos Fleitas