room with wooden floors

pile the bodies in the western corner
i need the eastern wall free,
sit in the lotus,
in the rectangle of light
    reading,reading
    cobwebs   
    DUST
through this dirty pane
the world is looking smeared
    second rate impressionist
mass produced dream

Gigers Dreamscapes on the northern wall
cheap printed trivial fantasies
covering mold, penicillin.

Gray.
Black.

hairy whitish thing, so delicate to fingers
just like the curtain on the southern doors.
a mothers touch of laced white
over my tinny window.
    Not so white anymore.
outside this dirty pane
particles of  premature spring
gliding down my rectangle of light.
Landing on the pages i so desperately read.