Alan May




The code was cracked by the fluffy white cat with the gray face and blue eyes. The code was cracked by me. The empty field swallowed the cow. I swallowed the cow. The cow swallowed me. All in a sea of gray horizons and general gloom. Fuck that, said the code cracker. My parents abandoned me in first a forest and then a silo filled with grain. Fuck that, I say to the crow calling my name. He peers from his third eye and watches me vanish into the green fields.




The rabbits and lions had ceased their wrestling.                    
The cedars lingered against the storm.
The lobbed bodies lobbed by nitrate
and aluminum. The map
that could not be seen from the sky.
The peace only seen in a scorched tract
of knee high weeds. Caucasian thirst
for yellow cake. Detached retina
or camera angle. Pieces of the broken
body of a valet. The leader and the bomb.
Dirt road ascending into the hills.



Some days, we want to disappear. Some days, we need to locate ourselves in our own individual maps of Hell.