To be a bed
where two flies procreate
a scoop of nailed flight
to be a hiding of swirls
and heavy wax hairs
alpine view here with the roar of a minute
to be born of sperm and fact
trapped between two breasts of dirty fruit
feeding from black poisonous miracles
to be fallacies of waste
to have animals over you scavenge for dumb teeth
to be a gulf of chewed respirations
aging dawn of wings
crashing against oceanic mirrors
to be a bed of cactus
where virgins report to god
and sacrifice their blood to color
the brick walls of love
to be all the circles of anatomy
but not the equations of multitudes
the guilty resin of interpenetration
to be a savant sleeping under
hoards of cannibalistic dreams.

Poetry2011