>I can only think about the coldness
Of the green water, how the initial
Shock makes the skin alive with purpose
How I demand to be alive.

>Michele (revision 100320101422)


Sat up on the plush, pillowed chair
Crossed milky legs, flattened hair,
            and feels it bright to giggle and
            arch her slender bow.
I stop despite, to belly on reflection
Peering up from the gleam eye of perfection
            blood impress & blood impressing, blood
            to blood to time compressing.
You who go mourned
Should not a man look to be forgiven
Should not a man protest for dying only once
But living so many lives for bunker and bunce?