Thick in the underbelly of a world named for the "spirit word"-
(Mullica.)
The perfect word to speak on a wave of higher consciousness.
Jaws of underearth breathing nature's air conditioning
into a forgotten room of showers, toilets, lockers and bed PARTS.
Dusty, musty, gooey dirt under my fingernails
and oozing into every exposed orifice.
Down on all fours in the crawlspace
cement embedded in knee and palm
old forgotten passage.
Room upon room
entombing framed instruction and secrets.
The night air stagnates
in the only portal between the real world and me.
Air duct stalactites biting into flesh and bone and reason-
a shot of pain and blood
like chewing on tinfoil.

Down on all fours.
I'm a goonie.
I'm a goonie.
Old forgotten passage.

(September 1997)

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