Properties of Criminal Girls in the String Universe
(Camping at Hendy Woods, Northern California)

Hiking for a phone, leaving the car in a ditch with the kids snacking on potato chips,
I pass a large snake warming herself in the middle of the road. 
She shakes her rattle at me, glides into dry grass. 
green & black diamonds
glide into the grass. 
Then the very nice tow truck driver Robert
drives me to the river. 
He tells me his wife is a walking corpse in Mississippi.

on the one hand a sense of cartoonishly re-imagined memoir... a body with a 
surprising stride & swish,

"A secret of life is that it's fine to be dead. Getting there is the problem."

but Bob Being Bob, the arc of Bob, 
riding to the place of higher love

snow in the pistons,
smashed repeatedly.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
 
Big: I've had one dream only, the others are breaths in & out of the body of my 
bigger dream. Streams of excited electrons --- only one throb. 

Little: a mouse with a sequined tutu, a dragon beanie, a hairless monkey & a 
hairy one. Painted butterflies point out towards universal love.

Out of scale, but within range:
The lackadaisical candle lantern which dangles from lampshade blue sky.
A red tank with minerals floating in the water. 
My tented pavilion, in which I reflect upon T---, whose crimes 
slide out of my grasp & dissolve further downstream. 
My frank disapproval, which is empty I guess
since the freaks around here 
still line up at the backdoor with stuff to sell: 
Cans cars purses a torn screen door
a missing radio.


camille roy