By art dog ~ artdog28@webtv.net
Date: 7 September 1999

sugared brine

With time as the fire to the torturing nostalgic pot,
boiling off peripheral expletive emotions
till the residual remains
         a condensed truth-
tiny crystals of what was sugared brine.

I want to diminish my body in size-
a crystal like a bread crumb to my ants' size body-
break off fistfuls and eat
until my mind digests
splicing the frayed-end tethers.

Maybe then what is real will stay with me
I don't like being an ant.