upon a hill with the birch and pine
into the shade of north mountain rain
past the foot-marks and berry bushes
i tear into the frame of what makes me.

i dig holes into dim reflections
and use and fuse the self shut.

tongue can taste the ripping of wounds
the sour and gluttonous spite
my greedy mouth chews and chews.
teeth tear the rusty bearings lose

and i sink in the swell of the sea
where the stinging is most.