Blood has not yet leaked out no
clots yet no need for clotting.  Tale slowed just before he wd
explode into the wall upside down
in
the cartoon of Ringo Starr in the
dream as he neared death   picture announcer's heartless sardonicism.
              Above it all beer sales    ad writers
              buzzards circling the meat of a corpse to be, heart
              palpitates in expectation, more a sputtering before the final stop.
      The dream leaves nothing absent
      flowers on the corpse are made
      of edible material, garnesh
      a salad or an expired loved one.    This
      fountain flows no more.   We've sunk to entertainers whp
      brandish hate like a meat cleaver
      the harshness & bitterness is karma   while
bellies
of African
children explode
@
night    we offer genetically-engineered food.
              I
              see
              her in the crowd
              seeing
              the
              flight
              of Ringo Starr in the avt of becoming
              infinite joining John & George in the
              clouds over Liverpool.

7:27AM—8.27.02
Starter phrase from Maria Baranda
in Reversible Monuments, pg 37

 
Letter 21—August 27, 2002 After Homero Aridjis
(For Mom)

As the bags grow under our eyes, so yrs
are recognized for their true worth.
The dogwalk @ sunset holding hands w/ daughter.
Yrs recognized in moments like this
so precious
is this gift
death ends it like a stopped watch    he
made use
              and stained the yrs before Saturday reclaimed his skin.
              We understand how memory is made into stone. Past
              made unimportant except as it becomes stone &
              each stone builds us into what is.     The
              day is silent.     We walk
              into the forest by the river.
              Our need is more time like this hovering over our
              own
              ghost & laughing while we can still recognize the forest scent.
                   Until that day
                   one
                   afternoon when you give back your skin
                   today (tomorrow's memory of stone)
                   unmakes
                   all the eggs thrown in anger & selfish words unimportant.
& everything happens on a Saturday
we eat more buckwheat pancakes & choose not to
see our own impermanence        we look
down
the barrel of time & the bullet seems far away & meaningless     more
roads to speed down in search of of ease & a little more meaning
we
have postponed our quest for enlightenment &
made the comfort of our own skin our only obvious goal.
      We plan for two months together       we
      are watching
      our children grow up  our
      own memories are becoming stone before our eyes    time
      remains much too fast & the thought of slowing it makes me tremble.

9:53AM—8.27.02
Starter phrase from Homero Aridjis
in Eyes to See Otherwise, pg 67