Shantih Journal 3.1 - Page 121

Watch Me Kick the Devil shaun turner Lately, trouble with resolutions. I dream of a burrow, a ratlike pink nose, the dark. I ask: When does a habit become a bad habit? Shit, anything: The New Yorker, luxury coffee, sleeping pills, whatever. Sometimes, in the dream, quiet, the animal carries the loose dug-up soil in its hands or paws to one of its many shallow secret enterances. I ask: When did it get harder to love an old thing? Sometimes, in the dream, the frantic animal rises up. Other times, it lays. Its burrow: the twists and coils it clawed into the earth. Its secret: A dark hole is just a dark hole. 121