FROZEN MULE MEAT :
TOO MUCH RUNNING ON
Every little thing has jet lag - and too many
second moments have long lost their validity.
It's all frozen mule meat running on. Beneath
a night sky : Belinda I am seeing you.
Two fat ladies are window shopping; but
what will they do with the glass when they
buy it? (I want to ask : such specious questions
are my task). Creatures without names are
digging holes in the ground. People talk
out of turn. Everything comes back to
where it began. No longer do we have
a heart, and I have commingled blood
and life-story in a single, massive heave.
Sadly, the trees are felled as I await so
little. The air has the jism of psychotic
flesh. I pomade the pastures where, long
before, the cow and the farmer flourished,
or tried. Walk on, time, and I have lost
all living : now all things have died.
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