i.

I pick my head up from the board

where it had lain down to rest my eyes

and my ears start playing pop songs.

no silence is allowed from stimulation

simulacrum of emotion.

 

ii.

A rabid iNtuition releases hounding branching thoughts:

the ducks spread, then multiply, multiply, multiply

the hunter has to chase them all

while his dog chews on his bones

and gnaws traitorously.

 

iii.

“The damn fire won’t decide to start.”

It’s caught between an explosion and

an enervation; the energy just won’t last.

Still the embers alone are enough to consume

like a hungry, mindful maw.

 

iv.

Vulture goes peck-peck-peck-peck,

had been sitting on his shoulder always.

It ate the eyes from the socket a week ago

the ears the week before that

all thats left is the beating beating heart.

 

v.

burning burning burning burning these thoughts

should be buried under mountains of mountains of-

should no longer be left with the Lone wolf,

voracious; loud; interminable; inescapable;

born inside the simulation of an emotion

in a mind.