(across the mire) Out the orifice it spews Chunky Full of the undigested The putrid odor It brings forthEnvy for the deadWaiting for a golden sleepThere is nothing left But to eschew these mechanisms these repulsionsand embrace the tide of timeEngaged in listening to the wonderful majesty of the bog as it digests this refuseslowly…

That clear sharp metallic sound It cuts up from the dream world A murmuration of dark birdsStartled they bolt for the sky like a protozoan shadowsFrom beneath the arched bridge The cold bright sun of winter Pours overBarren trees wrapped in the mist of sleepthe shroud of night liftedDressing Roughly pulled from an unhealed wound…