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Paved-over swamp sprawl
squalor of strip mall and
college-trough parking lots

No lap dances allowed,
though. this
is a decent place

with stand-your-ground laws
and sulphur in the water

Where groups of white
men chase men that look
different and white-haired veterans
yell "nip" from burgundy Buicks
with long pull at glinting flask

a decent
place for squirrels chattering
"*******!" between acorn-throws
and dinosaur cockroaches

And then the rain starts
and then everybody drives worse
and the guard-rails cringe

A decent place
where every road
charges a toll.
Ah, the college years.
To-night is dark, so
  step lightly and carry
  a large lamp into
  the howling woods

Wisdom says run, run
  to dark caves and
  harrowing silences
  mirror the bottomless

The abyss, gazing
  headlong into itself,
  recoils in horror,
  shudders dis-eased

And only lamp-light,
  courage flick'ring
  in oppressive depth
  persists, defiant

A stain on un-becoming
  a trampler of stars
  peddler of filth
  who knows all the answers.
'Twas the firm and fervent
    wish of a youth yet
        to flower into a jaded
           blossom, before understanding
        what it meant to love or why
    it was so important to learn
  to do it well,

whose childhood ended rather
      abruptly, watching the slow
        crumble of supposed soul-mates
            as love was not enough
        to overcome the inertia
   of their own.
To get to Anywhen,
be Here
first.

Then,
proceed forward
in any direction
whatsoever.
Mind is a dog
that barks, a dog
with a bone that is
never buried,
and thought like
a dog's instinct without
the anchor of volition.
We train dogs to bark in order to teach them not to.
{i remember}

She comes to presence
in a great wave of grief
that has no bottom.

{water cannot swim}

Feeling the unbearable
weight of womanhood
tearing me open,
revealing my own sorrows.

{a channel of life}*

To be a gate of love and blood,
the flesh of desire,
bearer of all burdens,

was so traumatic I was reborn
in the body of a man.
Leaves skitter as shoed feet
fall silently, wind clinging
at clothes in the death
                  of summer.

     A once-verdant echo
          sighs into place
      clouds weigh heavy
            warmth is savored
                  the grasses die
                       instinct stirs.

The world dies
      to be renewed
            in glorious flame,
      changing to stay
the same.
(igne natura renovatur integra)
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