A rent is what it is: a tear, a schism. Who can strike hotter than lightning? Who can stir faster than an electric mixer? Who can displace water without getting wet? Shadows are cast upon walls & trees, yet nobody's more cohesive in their appointed *******. A hole forms above my eye, a portal of enlightenment or a boil. A dangerous rupture threatens bending over to retrieve car keys --- there will be no ice cream cones for anybody now.
   “Would a dead photo of my cat be any
help? I have 6 angles: repose, face up.”
   A cat dead is no use to the live-cat community. They are
live wires: no ball of yarn's sacred. It's Newton's Laws of
Heavenly Bodies, the **** Test {for scarlet fever susceptibility}
& scads of things that keep dead cats thusly.
  Into the salt-sea I bury the remains in large sprinkle: sandy bottom, sand-paper & silica, foam & detergents, the oil what cuts the surface --- the depths of volcanic breaks with sherds of crusty parts. Chicken combs choke the weary, froggy warts & cloven hooves clog craws. John Rockefeller, junior, sleeps with girls. My mind's fettered, culling accusations, massing a cleric's defense.