1056

maybe the stampede
should stop the journey
the last village
is a little ways away

the last words

for a day

glad the stampede didn’t
stop the journey
the next village
was a little ways away
my acne even went away

the last words
for a day
some snot
by the signature

jeremia–

it was a rooster
crowing
that brought us to see
the morning and its
apathy
overcast and hateful
the next village
is unknown
some ways away

the last words
until the dogs stopped
chasing

I think I’ll give up
my humor is all gone
all our travel fever has
been cured by the death
of the navigator’s
son who fell in the shower
cracked his head
trying to swat
something venomous
I can’t write the Latin
for the moth

that’s it

I close the journal
take my clothes
dirty and clean to the
laundromat -
it don’t matter to me