8/'04
peeled back the label
found in an empty arena
full of plastic catholics
buried in coffins.
saw mother mary falling down drunk
escaping imagination and infatuation
cradled in shotgun confessionals
beheading the kentucky bottle.
married in the month of May,
flowers floating in oil
wrists bending backwards
falling in open spaces
left where my eyes fall out
soldered a new wing on my shoulder
gathering the rapiers and swords,
slicing.
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