two poems
Ouroboros is Broke
It’s typically at this time of day tht the final closure of death seems most heinous & gnarly
Death interred my mind like a spirit
& now I’m cannibal, spiritual icon of
Nunchucks
You are all within my head
A sort of lace devoted to the image
of nunchuckery
Supine in this sky
More than infatuation with the waves.
Uncloudy Day
if u exclude me from society
then i go to heaven
I & the rest of my ppl
we’re tht deep
we live in God’s love
not under your laws
Sunday forgive
my gluttony
my lust
my spirit
