Or burn the skin of our compassion,
they get hugs, handshakes, drugs, blow jobs,
the pantomime road to 100 euros for a double male twice penetration
Love Smoke
Nine Minutes
The butterfly’s tongue—
sharp and golden—
roots for the sweetest flower;
knows her name by taste.
The Architect
Oh the impermanence of the cosmic spine
that collapses and leaves me wanting.
I cast shadows in my bloodline.