Hollow as promises, their petals blasted,
Their bristled leaves now paned by parasites, 
Their huge, black catacombs all drooping

The faintly digital click of the overhead fan
         stroking what was left of the dark
     had finally given way to a rooster alarm

Chott

Through the tent flap, across the air mattress, up over my shoulder blade, 
The blindfold of sunlight slips into place. On your borrowed Walkman

1. THE CHANTING IN TIBET HAS NOT CEASED IT IS AS IMMORTAL AS MEAT IS.

2. HORNS, CYMBALS, AND LIGHTNING BOLTS OVER GLACIERS.

3. BEARDED SEA OTTERS CRACKING MUSSELS ON STONES ON THEIR STOMACHS.

YEAH, OR MAYBE LIVE IN FANTASIES / WITHIN A DOLPHIN'S SKULL!

And there you are, painted into the picture :
Bricklayers and courtiers are making their beds
In apartments on the margins behind you.

Could you not look after me another day?
Why did you go alone? I leave in only another day.

If your gravestone is not erased first my head will be.

Bathwater smells like it.
Like when you turn left off Percival
onto Smallwood and pass Old Percival

I came from life from living I arrived

Nowhere     in the midst of God     in the midst of God

God is a city      in which no one has ever lived

squirrel killer 
predawn snacker