electro-dirge.  Putting the fun back in funeral.  Reflecting on the feel of a stiffened corpse before I'd had my coffee.  Drums beat us onward, to shit jobs and living surprises.  Tim lives under a ruby red grapefruit tree now, interred in form of ash; intermingled with his father's ash.  I stirred them into each other with my hooked fingers --  bone of my bone.  dust of my dust.  Sweet nourishment under a bitter, bitter skin.

Tripping over my dead uncle on my way to work.

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Roe Smith 2

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