The Fool's
Journey
by Ned Hogan, Jr.
more
entirely than usual this night because he was really tired and
very
worried.
the
moon came up huge and a lighter but colder blue than the sky around
it. A deteriorating jet stream sank and froze itself inside a warm
front covering a cold one and as this frozen bird sank, still running
on inertia, balloning, its pressurised water did what only water does
and the night was perfect. The animal twitched as its lizard brain(the
same) searched the fields around, the elctro-buzzings and all sounds,
for any bad intent. But greeted on all sides by innocent and deep
sleep and nothing at all to react to even the primal cold-blooded
spontanious attention slipped away. Yes, this tiny canine brain became
most magnificent in its own view and because there was such an unusually
perfect peace surrounding everything, it was inevitable, that once,a
magic thought crossed that bird dog's brain, that bird brained dog,
that fearless and so fleet canus lupus thinking tricky thoughts because
there was nothing else to do in the middle of a perfect night. [Transpondence
made everyone nearby very lucky for the next twenty seven hours. Yes,
they bumped into eachother but it was as if they hadn't seen eachother
for twenty-eight. Days.] this was all that was left of reason; a cycle
of almost twinty-nine sometimes, the thirty-six by twenty that were
flocking away through an orange dream sky begging for the poets lions
to roar and soar, disolving language itself, not needed anymore. The
poor dog did not think they would make it. dangerous language all
around. trying to drink the silent waters without a sound. lined up
in a bound found round sound that searched for the special ear. it
twiched now. it sang. it held itself in its own thought of the speaking
ear, telegraphing everything, a storm of tiny electricities. Someone
there promised that they would catch that moment and put it in a cage.
Triumphant, a long lost coyote howled. And ran away.
