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my feet have tasted sandy gist of fire as i

walk on embers spread by arm hoop band

natives. they stole my watch for the gods

nestled in thicket and he frowned when he

couldn't get to the lithium battery.

all he wanted was the power....

White man's juice.

i'll come back to the city, just save me a day

old bagel with king cheese. king. as i leave the

jungle that word circles my brow. KING...

he was born into blood brother to all.

blood father..........blood mother carried her plastic

fluid past peasant poor

ones who never leave their cottage except to catch rain

for a dry day.

i'm lying. i've never been to the jungle.....

i've never even been out of the jungle......

i won't find a place to lay my dead.

heading to that pinpoint between

north,south,east,west.

the rain is teasing

so i must find my

wooden bowl.