Given few more moments'd finish yoga but
its 3:15 again—another August—stars not quite obscured by waning moon. If I'd my
druthers junk lights'd be shot out but
it'd wake the dogs/possums, cats head for
cover still an overgrown lot vacant or a generous backyard.
Slaughter remains forever freight train horns & green tea
in dreams the dog caught the lost squirrel   the
vines suicided him
& granted the hunter release from his fury (temporary).   The
white
flowers relent now   but are  disarmingly  impermanent.

                   They say the train horns liberate
                   they say they emasculate
                   this is seed of ongoing disease DIVERSION (you say)
                   is life beyond the explosion festering & fostering
                   poetry everywhere you look

                                       but gas station bright   as   a   star
                                       it has come to skin & remorselessness
                                       is abandon the page before it sinks/stinks of
                                       death this place, the life all over limps but
                                       too   involved   to   burn   out.

3:26AM—8.28.02
After yesterday's sentence & from Homero Aridjis
in Eyes to See Otherwise, The Amazement of Time, pg 165

Letter 23—Slaughter Sonnet

Given the meat of it
another grunted illusion
shot out of a wild mind
for a cup of green tea, meatballs &
a cat crunching junk food   the
Slaughter extends most easily to critters expendable & aching.

         Dreams lucid enough for a fork
           suicide by his own needle'd be madness
             the flame continues its burn    the
               white candle makes darkness a sleeping
                 flower as you'll come to project, accept.

      They want it immediate & greasy   trucks
      emasculate sounds of night wind   only train horns & stimulants
      seed the dream beyond 5AM.
      beyond the locust tree w/ a holly tree eating it our from under
      poetry he said everywhere you look.
              But looking hard & losing
              skin giving it back one day @ a time
              sinks in misery violent as the train horns another
              death ungrieved
              too dignified to petition its relief beyond a few spare moments.

3:47AM—8.28.02

The
white
flowers
relent
now
but
are
disarmingly
impermanent
.

3:53AM—8.28.02