by Tolkienmaster Advertisements
How much of a person is spectral and how much is solid?
Repetition does nothing to blunt a face. Oh, and flames, flames.
Knuckles in my mouth. White, red.
This is the size of a thief’s heart, these are tooth-marks.
Beast of pipes and subways. Jumble of sacks and tubes
strung to bone.
Light passes through the skin
and the small dark grasses lift up
their blind eyes.
I do this at the coffee table.
I eat a salad and the old light enters my blood.
I drink cow blood and the light, again.
Spindly clock hands cycle, dripping with it. Goose. Found you.
You have cuts in your lip from the dry weather. Can’t keep it inside you.
Can’t contain the excitement. If only I didn’t have to take you by force
from somewhere inside,
each time would be honest
for the unfading strangeness.
Soap bubble tube in the wind of his agonized soul, I felt my body billow.
Someone said, there is nothing on earth
less than the wind.
There is also nothing more
than the wind.