The future. Tomorrow. I will make plans.
You’ve seen the scar. I’ve shown you before. It
Pinches at the deep red hole in my scalp. The
Hole surrounded by puckered and drying
Skin. The hole that three days ago was much
Larger and weeping puss. If I keep it
Free and bleeding it should heal with the red
Gelatin of the future blackening
Into a plan brushed with hog’s hair on white
Textured paper, a sumi image from
A master artist of Japanese form.
With the blood like Aaron’s precious oil
On my head dripping down onto my beard
And the collar of my shirt. To make plans.
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