Monday, December 11, 2006


I am in denial about the rope around my neck. I refuse to think about the electric chair sizzling beneath my body. I won't contemplate the meteor falling toward the earth, the one labeled "Donald Illich," the one marked "death." I will not consider how close the planet is to growing gardens of explosions, a bloom of fire for each life. I will not climb those steps to the scaffold in my mind. I won't let anyone push me off into empty space, which is a misnomer, because nothing is ever empty. There's always a breakdown in molecules, a place to be burned.


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