supine and present inside the dream

behind each eyelid a dark seed sprouts

mustard leaves and pungent corpse flowers

     half mashed I blossom into arms flung

up     encircled as a nucleus

I breach and spill my encoded self

along a perimeter of girls

each crowned with twenty-three red feathers

and their eyes like televisions blare

no news but immediate pleasure

     until I alight in a lecture

hall of pubescent design     pillars

penile     wild audience impatient

for the hanged man to dance above them

     the stomach is the seat of the soul

they cry in one thick din upon my

eyes gone twitchy my toes splaying here

in the arena where I again

have retreated to the bodily

heat     the deep engine we spend our days

smothering with sand     scabbing over

slowly the oldest sand melts to glass

inside the twitchy earth we’ve ignored

     the glass melts upward     glares back the sky

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