Thursday, February 6


Morphine, fuming from an inner furnace,
Pumping possession; incense smoldering—

Ritual in a dish, remnants of a hollowed husk
Whose spokes spiral a vacant core.

Evince this pendulous possibility; in the sensuous
Smoke, a silhouette, a cameo in this mind's spotlight:

Overtaken, lap by milky, relished lap.
Tongues lick this stranger into a familiar.

Ghosts in the white, skin cold and free.
Concomitance in motion, lung for lung, breath for breath.

In this heathen land, wild things wearing
Your face roam at night.

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