Stonehenge creaks

I can feel it in the plumbing

the shifting of the pose

Already they are marching in flocks

A million humans searching for truth

any attempt at salvation


Sensual stones you move me

Disc mount primeval computer

Module circuits please lock in

Trace back your codes to a shade of growth

return the angles of that beacon sun

“You know me”



God! his head hurt. Roger awoke to the sudden onslaught of the obnoxious morning rah rah show on the radio in his bedroom. Ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction. That was some tremor last night, ay folks. The news report illuminated in the fog of the radio reception; earthquake tremors in the LA area. Roger rose from a damp sweat, his back stuck to the wall, feeling a little worse for wear. Can’t you feel the fears I’m feeling today? After a start, it dawned on him that he had been in this position since when? the last god knows how many hours were lost to him, leaving him strangely invigorated. He glanced at the bottle, it was empty, you still don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction and he seemed to understand, that insidious dream was just a mirage brought on by the earthquake, this is your brain on booze. The smell of charred wood and mildew still wafted the air; the cries and echoes still rang his ears as the memory floated back into his semiconscious; for a moment, he lay contemplating their meaning. He nodded groggily at the kitchen counter clock; then, with sudden realization, sprung up and ran full tilt into the shower, cold then warm then cold leaning the back of his head under the stream.

In a flash ofch04burning at sink memory Ben emerged and he sobbed convulsively, uncontrollably; pounding his fist on the tile brought back a modicrumb lol of equilibrium. Later, immersed in the mirror, he saw the shell shock, as he tenuously scraped the razor across his jowl.


Glancing out the bathroom door to the clock, Roger started once again. He couldn’t be late again; what had Danforth said no pictures, no job. Without time for coffee, the paper or even a smoke; he dashed to his 2006 Eclipse Spyder, one thing I couldn’t part with goosed the engine and rattled it hell’s bells to work. On his way out the door, he did notice, however, that the apartment was still empty of everything, but the frog-like TV stand keeping vigilance beside the living room window. The dream had not permutated that!