To write about the monstrous sense of alienation the poet feels in this culture of polarized hatreds is a way of staying sane. With the poem, I reach out to an audience equally at odds with official policy, and I celebrate our mutual humanness in an inhuman world.

I'm going home the old way with a light hand on the reins making the long approach.

Nature is a catchment of sorrows.

... people get confidential at midnight.

One way of ending the poem is to turn it back on itself, like a serpent with its tail in its mouth.

Everything pays for growing tame.

Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.