I lost my rock and roll
for a swollen cuff
iron binds my limbs, sweet thing
torture of dull
the trick
the fallacy I’m fooled for I am here
pretense this, before it ever happened and that will give it legitimacy in most states not recognized by the crown. They took away my radio privileges silent and alone I sit with no ground upon which touch during my flights of glorious golden fancy delicious folds of pure inner glow wrap around me as I lie flat yet wondering why

STOP

a long touch of linear motion attracts my eye to confuse the main of the brain to reuse the remains of the same. I have been denied – a shriek of solo cry – the thump of intent to penetrate my sanctum, which no longer exists.

Editor’s note – written January 2003