I am left here descended from these fathersCaught in the glare of suddenIllumination. Oh, you know the fathers I meanThe ones who chantIn the catacombs of heartGiving voice to low murmursThat hold time togetherWith wattle,And daub,And spittle,And hopes. Dwellers where dreamsGet laid to rest prematurely They sang of you in low tonesThat rumbled up faintlyThrough limestoneThen soilAnd the grassesThat overlay them. Worms str...

Four stools down One of those elemental issues Mushrooms and spores out bitter. That DNA thing, reptile baggage,  Still lies between them Coiled up tight Afraid to look scaly But prepared to slither. Her incisors jaw-clack Then close to break crust As an old dynamic of bit bread And missed meat recurs To stare her down again. She cries While he explains he didn't mean to.Jane was there And it just happened Didn't mean any...

The bed a wreck of first coupling, And morning shadow Slipped dishabille around you. You would sleep, Eyes tracing some trigonometry of dreams, I suppose Surveying distances. What nervous sculptures Would we chisel With bare hands from flesh? What equations of synaptic import Would we resolve With tangled tongues and skin? What middle kingdom of the heart Would we frame in  With rough lumber and desire For mutual habitati...