MY LIFE AS SANDOZ MESCALINE (Bolinas Snapshot, 1972)

Jade lifted her face just briefly from the mirror she’d lined with a few pink hexagrams of

Sandoz mescaline & said vaguely to her devotees sprawled nude

On a lush Turkish rug You know I’m sick of the “dystopian novel” & we all nodded even the one guy

In the room who’d actually written one & Jade looked up in cool

Disdain adding      I mean that fucking phrase: “dystopian novel” not any of you sweethearts

& I was thrown into the depths of Darwinian despair as she looked

Straight at me saying Lately only one thing gets me off so I’m forever grateful to my friend Reggie for

Smoothing the rough skin of a drumhead to toss his Inuit divination

Dice—six miniature-carved-ivory huskies with rubbed violet coats all of them rolling & tumbling

& landing on the drumhead perfectly upright on all four paws

Subtly assembling into the very finest arctic dog team ever known anywhere close to Bolinas California

& in one somatic heartbeat I’d harnessed my spoon-sized sled

To their oracular dancing bodies & in an instant like night fog I was gone