November 15th, 2002

alice lost in labyrinth

poem: Dead Rabbit

Dead Rabbit

Moon shine in the
Fields of the sky
I stumble
Homeward Bound
On the shoulder
Of the tired highway

As my body fights this virus
Miles away from his trials
My judgment is flung
Like the dead rabbit
By the roadside

Has every star
Become a satellite?

This is not the time to reflect on my life
Not if I want to make it home.

04 November 1998/edited 15 November 2002 ADP