I am alive with the hammerhead prophets
fluttering by the window, bruised scents
cowering through the tarnished streets,
the sheets crumpled and worried about my ankles.
The breeze kisses them by,
singing in the otherwise deserted air.

A milestone is reached this afternoon,
swollen attacks pulled up close,
but swing to the wayside.

So I'm stuck here in the night-
shade and sorrow, preventing the angles
from shadowing the horizon.
I won't lose sleep tonight.


Sept 1 2000