the moment wretching
becomes embarassment, or
forgetfulness begetting
regret

I must purge before I’m full
like eating grass
use it down to its wick
and need more

get more. expend more
smoke it. they call to me
they are soul choice
says the non-soul

so avoidable
so unnoticed, so
they don’t break the skin
as to them

every pour
is a great cathedral door
my eyes like stained glass
manipulating the light into

church light
dried blood and piss, the
yellow-green of flowers
shoved into books

everything is a mistake
your bouquet should have been
grass, the animals
should have been quiet