Sex is a zombie
with teeth made of glass

I want to give all my time
to an insect, who knows only
one flower & makes love in it

Shelter in the bulbous beauty of life itself
away from the the carnivore machines

Our time’s a tigress
jumping at the fat bars of her cage

There is no value in her stride
or in her shining belly

We bring endless hierarchies to the boulemic universe,
inflation to the Arcade of squinting heroes
with pitch black tongues

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