, by Gary Zukaf, and my first batch of honey-meade/longevity tea is out. [Kombucha tea] It is vinegary, my stomach is hot with it -- and I've almost got indigestion. I'm a little high -- either from the tea or the book, or both (probably both). ************
There's nothing here but a brick,
and a bone.
A bone on dog's
breath.
A street where I've never been,
and maybe some houses.
In the mornings,
when I unwrap my
fingers and eyes --
inspect the wounds --
sort the stones, and stand -- soft-boned
and new.
When the grey approaches
this butte like a lid.
The wide gets close,
and the glade becomes
moor.
Howling waste.
Plunged or lifted I don't
know. I can't figure.
Up or down -- in the
Catholic's dance. Is this
up,
or
Down.
You can't be here,
anymore than I am.
This frame,
presented,
can set you down and
gargle your throat for you,
medicinal syrup for your
virus.
But you can't be here.
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