This time I drove home pondering the simplicity of Hubert and Ottie's lives and the complexity of my own. The money was meant to be circulated so that others get a chance to use it. Against Wisdom 1. Corpus Post-autopsy, the returned convexity of skull reshapes the scalp. The autopsy technician sacrificed a step to tie off the jugular veins keeping colour in the face, a gesture to this man or courtesy to his last beauticians.
Corpses are more fit to be cast out than dung.
I wash excrement from skin that holds no mystery, slice and weigh the organs, warm and turning cold and stiff as turds. The clues are not available to idiots with knives. Breath Your garden in November, this moment dragging remnants of itself. Unharvested summer squash as fat as watermelons, soft hope grown into vegetables, and then inedible. A pumpkin too long after Halloween.