SUBJECT>Annie Continued POSTER>M EMAIL>mfarmer356@aol.com DATE>1112043370 IP_ADDRESS>pcp451886pcs.abrcrn01.ga.comcast.net PREVIOUS> NEXT> 85643 IMAGE> LINKNAME> LINKURL>

Preparation

God’s carrion stunk to high heaven,
She told them from Jump Street --
No one listens, they have to find their way
Through death, deserts and early morning silence.

The razor forged cuts skin or bullshit,
But cut it had to. Annie had been slicing
For a while – no, the lies, the mystic muddle,
The mimicry, the pseudo-sybaritic, if we may.

What was left was immutable, recollection
And a cornerstone, all that wasn’t
Made to all that is, is. Subsist, dear heart,
Protector of a tradition, a truth so small

Yet so big a no one could deny it. Look!
The object sat beside her and she pointed,
She said, “This is it.” Then she ate her bologna
Sandwich and placed her huge feet up to rest them.