Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is good for thee,
thinking moderation then, success.

Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying?

Child mind alerts, perks up its ear,
single minds have single ears, child mind
focus state, un monitored you, recall, child
minding your own business walking in the road.

Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first,
did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up?

Child mind cocked sure, I know.
We are all an alien probe learning the questions.

Each letter holds an American English phonic response…
and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture.
--selah, also means let it rest

The precedent for a post temple social order arose,
and the minds required for that task arose as well, but
as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes,

cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull.

Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones
we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans…

tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion,
remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny?

Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like
a child's mind, ****-meter counting steps away, flee

the birthing trauma, do the dying well.
Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there,
death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.

Tasting the tears of dreams,
Deceptive comprehension.
Trinity's discourse, perpetual
Contrived silence discordant.
The knowledgable fruit befallen
Death, periodically living bewildered.
Apparent reality diminishing
Into the solitudarianism of
Times wilderness.
God contemplating mortal annihilation
Beckons the ethereal plane
Upon the horizon of a timeless shore,
Whilst mans woeful thoughts
Roll on like waves flooding the abyss,
Amity aeolian becomingly
Accepts hells fain fury
As a corrupting enterprise of war;
The autolysis of life subjected.
Sound refracted through the farthest of lands
The knell ringeth;
Echoing the languished lamentations
Of life bore by sin
Unto heaven, lifes death.
The second son of the first murdered,
Banished from Eden
walking the exiled path
Crossing the Styx.




1997 ELEETE J MUIR

stage one: autolysis
all i know is that it is cold in your basement. i can't tell because i cant feel anything but the space where you used to be and the fingernails lodged in my spine.
soft electric whirring and rigor mortis.
there is nothing you can do about this, you will not forget this.
you will cower from it.

stage two: bloat
recovery has long passed by now. there is a garden of loathing inside of you and it has overgrown / there is a ocean of fever inside of you and it has overflowed.
the body can grow to twice its size in this stage.
this is its way of releasing the pent up anger/sadness/longing you felt as a child.
your organs whisper "lets stop" and "im tired now" and (?).
they sigh as they expand. they are at peace now.

stage three: active decay
85% of brain growth occurs between ages 1-3. this doesn't mean anything as the years pass because when you are 4 you will liquefy and when you rot you will liquefy again.
(child deaths are always the saddest.)
you will find someone who loves you and you will return the favor; you will give everything to them and save none for yourself.
this is the riskiest gamble you will take / this is the only gamble you are forced to make.
you will let this swallow you. proceed with reckless abandon because
being cautious will hurt more than fingers on bare skin and flowers tucked behind small ears.

stage four: skeletonization
why has someone who has been hurt so badly choose to live so softly, to remain vulnerable? weathering can destroy you,
even the smallest wave can destroy the largest rock with time.
maybe she wants to be hurt, maybe she likes the cold basement, maybe she lets other people hurt her because she's too afraid to do it herself.
she seeps into the earth / i seep into the earth.
this is not the place where we died, but this is the place we will be forgotten.

stage five: funeral
lawn chairs / popsicles / fireworks. she stopped aging when she was small, she still pins baby hairs back with barrettes and cries for her mother.
she stares straight into the sun / she is an optimist.
she is soft, but do not handle her with care.
dig your nails into her torso,
**** her and cut her up into pieces and shove her in plastic bags / the lake where she swam as a child will be her permanent home.
she will fall in love with you chained to the bed, she
will love you endlessly and with every part of her,
every piece of her you tucked in her mothers garden.
i think it's time to
sleep.

i love you, and i am learning to love myself. please be patient with me. i am trying. i am trying. i am