BOTTOM

5 1 R B O T T O M M A R T H A Z W E I G You’ll be among the first to know. You will. You’ll see: waddling like an emperor’s obesity ahead of you, sunrise, the future. In due time too little & too late engage to marry. So shy, this pair; so much the better to nuzzle & groom each other – foster foundlings mutually taken-in. And how will the years yet make me do without a body? Not now, not for nothing, not at all, absent its rods & cones, its propulsives & obdurates, absent its membrane drums? This too will end in tears. Squalls hurling the timber snags, rips & chokes awash crashing immense sobbing boulders: brown rivers lurch upon them & where does it end? Down where? Down here. ...