Friday, November 22, 2013


They removed a 10 ft. alligator
From the lake last year. Philosophically, a joke.

I have to move the furniture
To Breathe again. Art is the only lover
To strip me naked without bruising
Tender parts. Not much left not already
Art is a parachute
in a world where there Is no place to land.
All Alligators.

Stevie Wonder called to say he loved me.
But he couldn’t see my despair. The depth
and silence of the human heart kills me.

Too late. I am already dead.
Dragged to the bottom, aged in rot, saved
For the final feast.

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