i do not believe in god
but i do believe in poetry
and for me
maybe poetry is prayer
and the universe
is an unwavering ear
in the shape of a god

sometimes i want to burn things
to see them dance with the fire
two partners, fighting for an infinite second
in the brick fireplace of a temporary being.

then they are gone, turned to ashes
the fire burns itself out.
that dance, so beautiful, so inevitable
only lasted a second
before the dancers had places to be

encore, encore
and get another piece of scrap paper
and light another match.

oh, to be the fire
primitive and swirling.
but no.

i'll just have to watch.

I have tasted human flesh
From the oven of
Lips and tongue;
Dripping well-dressed
In savory sauce,
To stir me to feast on.

It’s tough “love”
not
tough love

we seek beauty in our mortality,
in the circulation of the human blood
the agony of life lingers in our veins and
heats our frozen hearts,
and we find love in
the longing for death

written across my anatomy,
a brilliant Poetica:

lips part/
line breaks

the dimple in my jaw

an

a
c
r
o
s
t
i
c

clavicles
mere sisters of verse

fingerprints are but
whirlpools
of apostrophe and quotation

the trellis of my ribs
composed of
stanza

behind

my papyrus heart
dwells

every beat
a turning page--

and this is my story