an eyelash twinkle tear,
and melted

the sugar in honey and wine
so god helped me cry

like a cramped muscle
after mile-runs

love, lava lamp red
makes me an island child

disperse the burden to each
of my adoring friends

you just do not know
how beautiful he can get

weep at the foot of a cross
but, by god, he is mine

lapping salt-beads
from the coast of an eye

hair is insignificant if not of a
root

row in streams of myself
destiny i spat up

with cemeteries,
learned to cradle an infant

feed him with my milk –
anon, i am a peasant

he cannot love me as i love
yet another waterfall’s dusk.