self murder

January 10, 2010 12:00AM



sharp winnowed slugs pledge
fruit as red as
slumped meat-mopped
murder.

and over there a dwarf preens in
ecstasy over greased meat
thwarted and this
pain is a
dime o’ dozen
munching ‘pon
barbed wire
bartered reds
cobalt stones hugging
crosses–
g–d god this glory is but
laryngitis and i wear this
grit as
ribbed gold.

cages knead the jaw, this
story is about being
bludgeoned by rivers of
gods and blood littering
sinister up up the spine,
gnaw-pain plumes.

in the shadow, in the mountain,
upon threads and stones and
echoes i stand above myself and wrap this trigger in
love.