In the time of letting go, 
  night just goes on as if the dawn did not matter,
  the morning sun brings not warmth but the fire of dragons,
  mistakes loom large like elephants leaving reminders on voice mail,
  the very air in my lungs carries the traitorous scent,
  my bedsheets collect salt for the curing of my heart,
  breakfast is a last meal before the execution of the day,
  the governor will not call and there will be no reprieve
  in the time of letting go.

In the time of letting go, 
  virgin angels dance satanic on the head of a pin,
  Occam's razor slices lies from love in the deli of my heart,
  I blink and cry out as memories fall like sand into my eyes,
  if I doze off; cruel dreams of beauty and joy come unbidden,
  lunch has no meaning, 
    the freeway is filled with assholes,
    friends puncture me with unintended needles, 
    every thing is a waste of time,
    I care for nothing,
    Midnight finds me awake,

     crouching,

       hungry 

     in the time of letting go.

bassman@tif.org http://www.tif.org/bassman/