e lost
its radiance by fall and her petals cried to the ground. Even today,
when people eat of her wealth they devour it with salt. This is in
remembrance that, in cursing Monarch, she, too, felt her own wrath for
salt is more bitter than the bane of the milkweed.

BREBEUF

Brebeuf is looking at the land that bears his namesake. He has no
recollection of the horrors to come for his gaze unfolds as if in a
dream.

The wide expanse of blue water pleases him. Certainly the area holds
potential--many hard and softwooded trees not unlike his native
Brittany. In the warm glow of a July morning, he belittles his
misfortunes, the present trials sapping little Ste. Marie.

The kindly father dashes the recent sleep from his eyes with cold brook
water. The shimmer seems to fit the haze his current thoughts pivot in.
Sweet water country might yet prove both fortress for Christian souls
and strength at feeding Louis' New French dream.

The sun is no longer in the sky. Instead a ghoulish orange disc
fastened between sharpened sticks is brought closer and closer to the
white face. He is maddened with pain. The circular nature of the mind
in torment flits to the earlier morning rumination. Someone spills part
of a hissing kettle on the fire in mock ritual of the Baptism. Too
abundant waters, ah yes that could prove a difficulty in cultivating
this pleasant land. The swinish feast in preparation re-echoes thoughts
of ample provisions so vital to this distant land.

An Indian brave stands holding the scalp, his face with all the leer of
a carnival barker three centuries hence intent on making a sale.

CITY THE INSECTS INVADE

"From the indigo straits to Ossian's seas, on pink and orange sands
washed by the vinous sky, crystal boulevards have just arisen and
crossed, immoderately inhabitedby poor young families who get their
food at the green grocers. Nothing rich-the city." Arthur Rimbaud

The old man sleeps with his weeping. Another old one pauses with her
cats on a fire escape while nursing a sore like a precious stone. A
garbage can is an herbivore grazing on stalks of ringworm. Vermin are
the pool sharks of this brothel polishing off the tenements' fur lined
rails.

At last, the skid of tires tears a hole in the river bank. Sand-fleas
and blowflies become nightriders marauding a new turf of godzilla cars.
An urchin dangles his stolen wristwatch like a fish in a bottle while
shoals of centipedes make a beeline i