There once wa a season, and it was long and musty.
No rugs laid on my carpet,
I looked at the result minimalistically.

when a cats corpse dries up
and it's stiffness doesn't startles you
well taking pride in not being shocked  it would be
would be normal.

So ong as it fitted into a world that wasn't just a dream, at least the memory of the event afterwards taking place in a dream.

Because the harshness of those memories in a dream, are plainly unworkable.

All  I remember is big Emmanuel.


saying on the way to the - next -
hospital 'I know the truth'.

My ego is ragin
my parents gave me nothing to believe in
this is a season
a season for more belittling
a scene for more work fitting
an event for superstition
a season for reading
poonanny Lord God on high...