Unsafe cutting of symbols

                                                                (Foto: Daniel Hillier)



she's this tipsy
skin on the wet
morning's soil

and I'm staggering
and watching
for there in the distance
I walk through a qliphoth
stuffed with sunflowers
holding a smoldering
trumpet
it should be the only
tune for
when we can't...

and at the end of the field
I sense rooted in the mark
of the sheep
I howl that way
I howl this way
and here I am

staggering
and watching
this tipsy
skin on the wet
morning's soil


we're just so much flesh
the rest is
growing
knowing
together
devouring backward

believe me
she tickles the earth
underground
with those sloppy, little
roots

go away now
I'll wait here
I have a rosary
with three knots
remember, remember, remember

these are the only
bullets against my gun