for the love, Iʼd fallen on in the swampy August dawn what a mischief you would bring young darling! when the onus is not all your own when you’re up for it before you’ve grown
from the faun forever gone in the towers of your honeycomb I’d a tore your hair out just to climb back darling when you’re filling out your only form can you tell that itʼs just ceremon’ now you’ve added up to what you’re from
build your tether rain-out from your fragments… break the sailor’s table on your sacrum… fuck the fiercest fables, I’m with Hagen
for the love, comes the burning young from the liver, sweating through your tongue well, youʼre standing on my sternum don’t you climb down darling oh the sermons are the first to rest smoke on Sundays when youʼre drunk and dressed out the hollows where the swallow nests