Poem: Vision

 

 

Vision

 

a moth

slices my skull like a spade,

digs up maggoty pasts

which split into ribs, maws, spines,

jumbling

as they clatter down

into pupils of ooze,

seeds of vision.

 

i lick a ditch

where life pools,

nothing but ambitious jelly.

i fizzle among microbes

that die in sparks

to prompt a circus

of evolving hides.

 

merged

with hyperactive goo,

i not only rot

but strip back

to the ferment of the first broth.

i bleed not blood

but the slime in all life--

 

what we came from, what we are,

what makes us babble and coo,

create, love, believe, devour,

desecrate.

 

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