1/19/09

Dirt collecting to my shoes.
From here I can see a deer.
One with strips of paint.
She stubbed her toe on a stone.
Laughs at the pain.
Laughs insane.
With mush effort,
and much luck,
I point the riffle.
Cocked and steady.

Somewhere in the distance birds are seen,
flying in hysteria and beauty,
blood.
Life escapes this planet.
Pain subsides from foot.
All is perfectly planned.