Delta of Angina

Posted on September 16, 2004 in Coronary Journals & Notebooks Prose Arcana

This vignette is based on an exercise suggested to me by poet Elisa Pulido. You take something that is on your mind now, connect it to a memory, and to whatever you happen to be reading at the moment. This comes out of my notebook for last night. I have also written a poem on the memory, following different lines that I am not yet ready to read aloud or show here:

Friday, half past noon, the exploration of my delta begins on television. They shall be watching as the snake seeks its sanctuary. Gut me and lay me out, filet of man stuffed with a titanium coil. Just what will that stet keep caged? Shoals of fats that have silted the sides of an artery. A narrows in a large man. Call me Sacramento, call me Suisin Bay, call me Yazoo. Leave me alone, mother and brother. What I call my interiors is none of your business. Miwok men went naked along the coast but in the interior they wore a breechclout made of tules. Go follow them, nosy relations of mine. I want you out of my life stream while the doctors sail their serpentine submarine from hip to chest, working back to the source where Miwok men close their eyes and see red.