[return to Contents Page]

Judson Evans

Snuff Blog

An accidental killing — so-called chronocide in the inadvertent eagerness

with which I tore a whole week from the word-a-day calendar.

Mass immolation of loan words and brand names, rare Aztec

birds and prehistoric tools on the altar of wordlessness.

A whole untranslatable passage swum

under with held breath.

to the waist of the hour-glass

No motion, neither Fasti nor Nefasti.

Undesignated days, without saints

or sanitation wavers. Nothing

takes the stand, nothing

given, delivered, awarded. Empty docks

and dockets. In the chainsaw intervals, a mortar of boredom.

stem of the wine glass broken off with the toast.