Sep 27, 2008


here we are, mother-- carving ducks for the gallery
of finesse and flame-- the mighty insect bruzz
whelming in sonic ozone-- mother, tether

and i must say, mother-- the richest dishes
are but misuses of the smallest pills-- my hands
but gnarled oak impassioned-- mother, river

mother!-- i see your stiletto in the camouflage
of plume and genocide-- for you, no arrow
whispers struck-- no accurate reassembly
of memory prerequisite, nor meal-- mother, murder

mother!-- these are my nails in your eyes
and they do not worsen your sight-- fears of rats
gnawing open their own bellies, are rats-- the oracle
is a sneer, and lo!-- the future, snarling