Graton. the Dali image, Vivian. The horde of little fat people. The poem a respopnse to misread poem of mine from Portland, "cunt". They called theirs "prick" completely missing the first was about me. Little fat people that now hover in the interface world of surveillance tech.
That night. The next day in the field walking the shortcut toward 116.
the woman, pasty, unwell, she called my name with a question in it as though she couldn't believe it was me and didn't know where she was. that sound - the zip and splat, like bees driving into meat, then in the distance the percussion as she fell.
posted by Juke at 1:11 PM [edit]