By Catherine Freethy
Friday December 29, 2006

The hat lands in a pail of green mossy water and sober felt. 

People glare and do not see death in the trees.  

Glen was never my friend 

the trees commit slow suicide.  


Bloated eyes seek solace in the sky. 

we fought, and spent time smoking in parking lots. 

I never hear esoteric sounds/ the boxer fights his rounds.  


Now the oceans are locked at night. In Alaska, the land bathes in oil and floates in light. At 4:50 p.m. struck down in a violin trash bin. The answer: stumble alone. 


The gold fish ice the dying plant. 

The Doctor is in.  

They laughed about the couch.  

We walked/ the air is cool.  

There-we are banned.  

The church is a garden of marble.  

Meryl drives the semi/bunny rabbits call the cops.  

Rocks sit by the road and say nothing.