This is the repugnant part, where now
you covet the loss which a moment before
brought you the severed torso in the dream.

Into the flaming peach she sped.
Passing through fastnesses of flesh
Down juicy channels. 

We live in the heart of what can't be said.
These messages we are dying to deliver, to whisper
to you, reader, you beloved, you nations of the dead

while the palms touch and digits suggestively link
so movement of the hands of each
does occur

This was the year drought autumn never ended.
Rivers couldn’t float their barges, prairies
burned in a sulphurous caul, dead blossoms and clots

Salt me down where love was
on a blue burn to remember the real pain.
I’m worn out from my back’s arch and pull,

When it hit me. Fumbling for a smoke,
I sank down heavily onto a concrete bench

beside the circle drive. There was no view

She looked like milk.
She smelled
like vines curled with fruit.

I could go out like that,
sucked to a whisper like the midtown
tax building explosively leveled

Peekèd, they peer into the future.
They have unsteady bottoms to their ships,
eleven thousand sea-sick virgins