March 2013

These are all thoughts — of course. At the edge of the ocean with nowhere to go,
the nearest land three thousand miles away and under different management,

the diving sun another thirty thousand times that, there is no reality,
only these parlous notions, messages,...

pigs prey to piggishnesses. get ate from the rooter to the tooter.
I’m a hog for you baby, I can’t get enough go the wolfish crooner.
the gust buffeted porker roll in the hay or laid down
              in twig...

Inward lush unpetaling purpose in pink blooms of sleep, and I no longer needed to be separate. I was living there then, at the edge of the sea. And my friends came to visit, trying for a baby, not sure...