cannibal
after november
blind
to not be numb
dream (four times)
forgetfulness
angel
first morning
laconic
drown
deep
maidenhead
milk
this
wake
dark blue
rotten scorpio
little v. flea
from me to you
exit
dry
the lines left behind
guilty
sever desire
falling slowly
esperando
dark spiral
sparkle
confetti
bodies pound beats
I have an approaching sensation
like a hand
palm up, rigid
with finite grains pouring away
nearly finished
But with lingering despair
comes an overriding
appearance of
grace
The acceptance of loss
like a dying goldfish
which slowly curls its aching
shimmery body
towards the abyss
welcoming the darkness.
11/95