And not a word uttered
the somnambulist recorder fading 
eating words spoken 
here
broken
space
surrounds your true story,
tuning into the waves
washing upon this beach

underbelly bloated soft
like a hawk picking at a turned up turtle
introducing itself to god-and
-where-did-all-the-time-go-deities-
its mouth full:
please don't
shit on me
I am not a disease,
just an upstanding member of the food chain

applauding, arms marauding, waving us off together
fear of heights flailing,
altitude 
soft
rising
oh yeah, this is the afterlife: 
"more bloody virgins and wine, waiter!"

all the '"wow's" fit together
like the clearest day that time destroyed
chucking poisons  
into the thin air 
everywhere
alert
gasping in glass/bomb-sheltered housing,
broadcasting
stoned.

2/3/02