End of Dream

At a place where the earth’s eye (the sky) bathes in mirror and conceals its nakedness with pure light from the callow fecklessness of man, an excited four-pound monofilament fishing line connected by an exquisite hook to the most sensitive lower lip of the earth’s rainbow tugs at nerve fibers and sticky, clotted viscera in one’s vital areas, evoking panic and death. Will it jerk an emission from one? At the back of one’s cave an old hunger awakens. A patterned china plate is littered with sickening bones and gristle. One must wake up one simply must wake up. End of dream.

(Last entry of 2013)