Seven Dilated Pupa

My question marks make sickles
When your circles lack their dots
These tales have always moved me:
Of matter learning to care
When night (time) softly rustles
My earthen hymenium
I make you up a bouquet
Of dark blooms who eat moonbeams
Your brains whistle and crackle
Like 3:00 AM dolphinsong,
And you weigh value in two
Hands like a big, partial God
Nightheat stinks and sizzles with
Amphetamine energy
A life arcs like solar flare
When I let my skin listen
My marionette fibers
Come clear to me – And I dance
Right back with careful matter
You want to grow a God bloom?
I already ate your seeds

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