Cry, life
Palatine and Gilgamesh with resected demarcations,
spent their lives in absolution
Of an oven-roasted naked.
Seek the things which are abreast,
Which coalesce in the dry season,
Seek the gathering, not the song
Alight with lying feelings.
Lamentations has it right
Flashlight for cellar door
Packing all your pocket’sies
With nails, dirt and lore.
We’ve seen the things
Tasted them
To us it may be fine
But for the likes of you
Tread lightly on the knife
Or else in accidentalness’
Your soul from spirit wrent,
Spirit from the spine.
Spine becomes the gimp.
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