February 18, 2009

Letter to a Friend, Implosion

More or less I understand
your mouth, so-mighty and handsome:
in the arms of the shorn hair of Samson;
In Timnah riddled in robes of the south,
and that rotting lion's yawning mouth
whose welling eyes and welling crotch,
will welling, putrid air be lost
to burst of hide and swarm like souls
deflated in their molds
spilt forth, and drank in wet and rank
death like these
in Ashkelon of Philistines;
full of honey, full of bees.

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