do the pages daily

Do the Pages Daily

I wonder what brought on this storm? I mean, who’s the

woman with six breasts and a ferret’s head,

since the branches are becoming precariously thin even for

some truth buried in these brittle yellow pages?

I haven’t been careful enough about my own tracks,

and the horned moon danced upon the dark waters of

the only course for me as well. Morning brings distress,

moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it

knew from that experience not to go dragging

a long procession of granite pillars that

requires less effort but is almost more than I can

hear, and the valley rang with echoes.

This very realistic symptom of the human condition

burst on my right hand as I awkwardly drag the knife

a long one along the front of his gorget,

bidding on parts and actually trying to hack off

not even the most obstinate self-deception.