bananafish

back then,
now again,
up down,
around and then…
all constellations in sky unending.

it’s the big bang. the wild atomic. the lowlit whisper light as a feather.
it’s the om and the um, the oo and the huh. with great bulldozers and fine toothed combs,
i am the excavated
the mummy come back from dead

fresh. green. living.
edging at the now.

just because i believe, don’t mean
i don’t think as well,
don’t have to question everything in
heaven or hell
db

and they quietly buried the calling off…the search for “the weapons” in Iraq. they buried the story in the paper, relegated it to a link off to the side and away. hail to the thief…here we go again…

i’m off to get high on some chocolate and forget about the madness downsouth.