I jumped in with spirit

and a tight fist around a neck of a bottle of whisky

I went directly to the window

and stared down that bright eye that wouldnt blink

I was told it was what finally chased Honeyboy Edwards off this rock

I caught its hard attention from the bathroom window through naked walnut branches

I didnt faint

I redoubled its glare

then ducked from view

I beat it up the hallway crossed the living room and went out through the wide-open front door banging the screendoor nearly off its hinges with my shoulder

I scrabbled over the oiled drive and went headlong down the shale hill thatched with brush 

and tall grass

at its bottom I leapt a shallow culvert turned up the dirt road and ran on to try and flank it

liquor or drugs can empower you to do ridiculous things

and done theyre either ridiculous or fucking remarkable  beyond reproach

but you aint to know until youre done

still on the run I looked back over my shoulder at the bungalow on the hill and saw the siding 

on the wall which held the bathroom window was lit bright

its paint softening

some running

and some boiling

from the intense gaze I summoned

magnified  I believe  by my audacity not to avert my head or lower my eyes

an insult it didnt take lightly

I got in behind the bright eye

I looked over the top of it and took in the world like I had never seen it before

everything unwrapped

undone to its bones

and I knew Id never see it again or remember it as I was seeing it now

the bright eye was so imbued it didnt conceive I was capable of treachery

low things  it thought  know their place and stay put

their fear to move without being ordered to move were the pigiron shackles rusting at their 

scarred ankles and feet

I greased my throat with a last gobble of whisky

the bright eye flinched at the bottles bottom broken on a rock behind it

I saw it throw a shaft of frightened klieg light into the cloudless sky before I severed its throat

and in my dim red mind

I thought how that brilliant beam of horror was going to shine on and on

like every word ever broadcast

or run off our tongues

going on and on on some dispossessed frequency

and like this fearsome light  to be seen again somewhere

they would be heard again too

                                                                  encouraged

I flung my head back and shrieked into the black ink night with an ungodly rage

for somewhere

someday

a listener

would shit their pants in fright

wondering why they hadnt last checked over their vulnerable shoulder

                                                          0134,  Sunday,  4  11. 12