road hogs

I am part of a party moving by truck from one end of Farmer Rd. to the other. Farmer Rd. is actually Simplot Boulevard, Simplot being the industrial-agriculture giant my hometown existed around, Simplot Boulevard was also the road I took to school my last two years of high school. We pause and I see men holding down hogs, by hand, in an almost sexual embrace, and slitting their throats, holding them from behind until they're done. They make a few more slashes in them, connect a bit of machine to their rear. I see this happen repeatedly, with no variation to the gesture. On the way back I see it again, and am stunned by the similarity of one death after the other.

TUESDAY NIGHT WITH THE TREEFROGS

I can designate a space
& whatever happens within it
is art

but this isn't
this waiting for something to happen

for a music
so thin
you can't believe in it