Neurochemical duress, the labor of my body aglows, destitution in mental illness; a fragmented waste of sperm
the perfume asleep, having flowers to cease as i now subsume tragedy beyond the wisp of her lips phantasmagorical stillness yet adorns to me her eyes of stone.
leaving death of all silhouettes when the new moon born of lured tragedies outstretched to kill itself
eyelids and a lie i stare the way footsteps slip in winters etcetera
wholly lady i speak eating air beside, the tree whose blood of mine grew upon.
and I’ve never known him this man of earth, of war and weedy cypress, lizards and their fluted skins married to the wind; phantom epistles from Vietnam
Sometimes I wonder who you were, what kind of person you were. You were my father’s father. You are dust now. You are in the death of an ocean well.