if we weren't made of soot which we highly suspected/respected
in her garden she had no garden
we did not love her we did not let her picture fall from our wall
forgive foment no one kissed me where
like bad jewels good black dirt
what song can't do does magnificent thumper in the wild
'the secret blackness of milk' 'sordid intimacy of the abyss'
when it became a corolla flickers
you are like an angel yelling for
attention still more still
my lamentation is as perfect an almond a shell
her eyes an altitude amnesic lover
gathered her skirts to the blond chapel
altarbirds follow us herehere herehere
