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May 03, 2005



((DEAR READER: This post is a piece I wrote in July 2004. My gut warned me of the coming tumult if the Bush/Cheney religious espousers were to take power, a conflict which now plays out daily.))

My Funny Valentine 04'

Thugs in suits,
wearing crosses,
speaking Jesus,
doing trash.

Blood of Inquisitors,
long cold,

Thugs in suits,
wearing crosses,
speaking Jesus,
doing trash.

In the week before Valentine's Day I walked the beach, shaping hearts in the
sand which I photographed and later E-Mailed to a passion. The above refrain
had been in my head for days. I composed a number of stanzas, felt energized
and went home. This is all I remember at the moment.

What I find interesting and pertinent is that this is not a political piece.
It's a visceral reaction captured immediately after ' 911'. I was out clamming and recognized within moments of commencing digging that a tiredness had come over me. It was profound enough that I quit , opting to explore for new clamming areas which is pleasurable and non taxing. I walked and poked for a good distance and then became reasonably nervous because my body signals were "you may not have the energy to get back to the boat."

A visceral reaction; a deer, amongst his brethren, huge loud noises, forest
gone, smoldering, dead everywhere. Fear and horror give rise to torpor. We
call it episodic depression. It's being numbed by fear.

The line, thugs in suits, is a reaction. Something caused this reaction. In
February there was no John Kerry, no presidential race per se, not even Abu

Just a sense of fear.


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