There I was, There I was, There I was...in the Congo. The last dewdrops of morning glistening in the sun, the jungle full of life, a pair of feral native whores by my side, and a pack of cannibals who'd invited me for dinner. I thought I was in paradise...until they showed me my marinade.
The Pen
The pen Falls It strays It weeps It stumbles Waiting… Nothing. It forms Words? Notes? Death? Life? It strays A mark upon a perfect sheet of white It bleeds Constant Continuous It soothes It rises Back into the curve of the breast It lives
