The New Terrorism

From the note book -- Oct. 27/2001 :

Medicated to the gills, The Princess Of Swords still in her night gown even though it is the middle of the afternoon, stumbles from the toilet back to her bedroom, mumbling...

"I have appointments up the ying yang. I can't wake up from these damn sleeping pills and I have PMS."


"Screw it. I'm staying here. I can't fight terrorism today."



Her eyes like lakes that have broken their banks. There trickle creeks over puffy pink shores. Waters full of thinking. Deep waters.

You, a swimmer who panics when your feet can't touch bottom, call out from the shallows - what's the matter? Is something wrong?

Of course there is - have you ever seen the sky so broken?
Image by Gabi Krukenberg .

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Coming Soon To A Theatre Near You


Autumn Song
The screaming bandsaw in the distance trumpets like a doped up horn player ripping the back off a smoking hot piece of bop.

While behind you -


- over and over again -


- a give it all you got at the top of your lungs -


- carries up from the Special Ed school at the end of the block.

In the trees, the colors of a dying camp fire dance to the free jazz.

The squeaky brakes of a passing van - that’s high hat.

The crows caw ?

A black girl doing scat.


Vantage Point

Vantage Point by Cameron Wittig


Wind Storm
Tonight, the fury in the trees carries with it the haunting sounds of the gay prof across the street playing a Japanese flute for his lover.

Haiku in the bamboo. Cigarette cherry.