brooks on moss

Page



The sorrow          (YIKES)
The sadness         (OYKS)
The continuance (UH!)


I wrote that poem, after a day searching and
hunting the al qaeda leader in caves behind
shrubs along the appalachian hills   (EMPTY HANDED)

two ju-ju beads though;  a hippy girl away from
university on a saturday;  nice sounds of brooks
on moss  splashing; cnn cameras continued to
follow me even though I told them that the
search was a misguided hunch and wasn’t going
to give me any results   (TURN THE CAMERAS OFF)

The drive home                    (TIRED)
The hippy chick in my lap   (NAKED)
The rumor                                  (HE GOT AWAY AGAIN)




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