monday 11:05

trojan horse capsules
galloping
pon molecular hooves
"dont move, i think he's outside
standing drunk on the lawn"

then there will be
the musk of the dog
who came back from the creek
from curious nasal adventure
because he missed his master


come back from the creek, my brother
ill be waiting on the front porch
breathing aerosol
that sends a thousand sheeps into the heavens
when i aim it heavenward

and up the seretonin river
just half a road up the mile
through skeletal brown
and business branches

there will be a man:
an octogenarian cannibal
who will speak to you philosophically
defending his position
if he could
but his voice would pierce
the universe's transparent membranes
and the world would skip

like the portable cd player
connected umbilical to the cigarette lighter

but it wont matter, really
because when you return
she'll be standing there
blushing
in diaphanous dress

and it will all implode
the universe screaming


at least to you, it will seem such