Simmering night's moon that floats in streams or

clouds that darkened howls reflect reflections of spheres a star's throw away

veiled reality is unseen like absinthe lights that aurora-borealis the morning of my life, gone dark, set and night

and to awaken the day's duty--to prayer, to posture, to prostrated pose, spinning 

dizzy of movement, whose strength of rebellion plans the coming of my perfection

a violin's breath across the chaos of my mother's death, my

how I am a homeless and a vagabond with no father to have taught me

I blame him, I

the initiate come begging borderless, mouthing ecstatic scions of woe, of wonder witless—“I am asking permission. I am seeking submission. I am aiming at all the father and mother I’m missing.” I hacked cough out the meaningful failure, and about in the dead air of childhood, from memories and scarred mementos that wreak heaven’s havoc.

I ate yesterday, eaten it well this, a cold raw plate, and I will vomit it the next. He is infinite foul that married me to this rest so that I may sleep never, nighted and upset.