/21
The holiday memo was email-bombed COB Friday to all
involved parties with some supervisors bcc-ed in, but none of
the workers fucking cared. Driving for too many days leaning into
the serpentine roads with cars following much too closely toward
a town that no longer existed, I texted you—asking to tape our worries //
splintered prayer boards to stones you should fasten to the hidden
river on the ancient map. . . but the cell towers were cluttered
with the aftermath
of another DOUBLE set {double bubble*gum*
style mass-produced} of
MASS {please note the irony} SHOOTINGS–
on the same fucking day—conducted with the skill of a
virtuoso European conductor HIGH on street-grade
CRACK. Yes, it’s true
I was flying high on polyphonous frequencies—
talking much too fast//frenetically—before the
inevitable underpass—collecting
torrential rains—a bi*product of
the catastrophic hurricane—for which the tourists weren’t smart
enough to evacuate. {When one pays for a desperately-
needed vacation on credit with 22% interest, the best
decisions aren’t always made.}
I was looking for the extra toothbrush for the
adolescent whose father might
IMPLODE again—because of the newly // non*binary
{gender*fluid} sexuality // self-
asserted {finally}; nomenclature
{warrior name}—to clean
out//urge//expunge aforementioned
COBWEBS—in our collective un-
conscious—when you caught me off
guard—with your
frantic//––// EVERYTHING*IS*
CRISIS* phone call.
Please forgive my NECES*SIT*AT*ED //
self-imposed quietude—
in the morning-garden light–
of this six o’clock hour.
There are some things I need to
get off my chest—in P=R=I=V=
A=T=E—while I scavenger-hunt
the missing clues—to share with
you later on your facebook timeline.
Adjust your privacy settings accor*ding*ly—
{{I’ll miss some of you.}}
to catch another
tidal wave*tsunami at the nu-
clear plant—trying to move
the frayed toothbrush through
the diaphanous cob*webs—
one leg in night-dream; O=N=E
foot
lost
i{n}
w{in}ter.
When we me*et, you
m{us}t
tell
me
Everything.
At the makeshi{f}t alt{ar},
the WEEP*IN*G
will{ows}
{w}ill es{sent}*i*ally sur-
render. . . .
three t{hous}an/d birds
{sh!}all
a*light.