Their glistening drowning selves a carpet of beads unstrung spit Bad Buddhist! At the pond naked, pale I slip between two shores of greenery solitary back in the murk of womb while there goes mr.
Killing before breakfast and killing after: Japanese beetles all green and coppery fornicating on the leafy tops of the raspberries piggybacked triplets and foursomes easy to flick into soap suds. Black spots of gnats, moths folded in slumber with one swipe of the washcloth reduce to powder. In the bathroom the tiny phallic night light still flickers. Then the barred owl in the blackness, calling for company, who who cooks for you-u-u? and suddenly it's morning.
It isn't gunfire that wakes me but the rat-a-tat-tat of hickory nuts raining on the tin roof of the trailer barn.
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