Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Natural Terrorist
Natural Terrorist Where have I been sleeping? Amid the green cedars and puffy white clouds (doves against a darkening sky), where the breath of earth is sweet and clean. Snow capped Baker, the only regal monument out my window, sleeps too. There is a rumbling deep inside like the purr of a sleeping lion with hot rock melted down into pools of earth’s blood. Pressure building to a magnitude of ten. Sleeping, like Snow White, dressed in diamonds. A Terrorist in view. Sister Helen shed her virgin...
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