I heard of a shamaness
who cures dogma
lays off documents
on the coast
of her ******,
swings her liberty torch!
and puts on a red cloth.
Her *******, like
speechless
fragile animals
Eyes like poison wells
across the
grand brows
and her smell wrapped
in a burnt sleep
for
ten thousand years.
She cures dogma!

I smoke too much
I dream of an explosion of the silver forests and
I want to fall as beautifully as the ballads tell,
I have held my breath and now I'm entering the coast of her ******...



- Samar Charulingah Godfrey