STRIKE

I woke up with a bowling ball

in my stomack, &

an urge to call my father's mother to

inquire about my father's unknown youth.

I awoke & the urge to void my bowels could

not be denied.

I walked out into the sunlight & wandered

down to the cemetary where my father's

father is buried & wandered the headstones

like a tourist in New Orleans.

I started a fire that stirred my desire -

I swung & I hissed -

Among deceased I insist -

That no one may blot out

the twilight abyss

of this:

The scream of the death dreaming choir.