while I maintain zero interest in the grammar of alleyways, I mean,
the thickness of it,
the kind of thickness you can't cage in a palm.
I repeat certain clauses often and as a result will fail.
No ticket to Paris,
no chocolate muffin for the AM. When we are eliminated
at the hands of deer hooves and motor pistons, there will arrive a clarity
so alarming that your spine will curl up
and into itself like something furry and cowering. Beneath the mother rat
sits seven baby rats
all in need of human milk human comfort not receiving even remains
or a phone call from Aunt Neva.
Hey man, you slice those lesions with a butter knife?
I was conditioned,
real early on,
to cultivate mine in a jar
but I suppose we all have individual routes from which we refuse
to deviate.