alt real: last visitation

— Evan J. Cutts

Camarillo State Mental Hospital, Summer 1946


            I been wondering about the future
            knowing it is a room with an open
            window.         Inside   of   it,   a   man
            gazing at another man / blueing over
            a     landscape     composed,     then
            decomposed / by his mistakes / dead
            leaves   clawing   at   the   windowsill
            keep finding their green / but his
            health is unraveling 16th notes /
            decay in the key of C.         Where
            did he find the time / suppose I gave
            it to myself — the Ozarks / the acidic
            vein / the boon-curse of caustic
            muses.         I am the man staring
            forever at his own / back & barely
            over / the precipice.         Take     me
            the hell out of here / fly me off
            the coast back home to my mother.

                                               I wish to tell her

                                               I am a changed

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