casking
myself
angel
barrel me
undivide my soul
in
a series of irreverent
and
serious cork
to
whimsy follows
of
directions
all
the abigails
outside
of glass
go
to where these
former
birds of feathers
are born into each
one
of Earth’s
thirteen flocks
we
smell wild in the wine
limb
drunk on the rose altars
we
are fired into
heavy
clay and
thick
safes
in
the walls
just
behind
the
picture frames
of
fame and fortune
we
have chased and
been
foretold to expect
our
behavior will be
shown
in the halls
with
all the ancestors
saying
life happens
with
Mona Lisa potency
painted
on thick
with
the entirety
of
our human history
being
dependant
on
remembering
how
to stay
in
the right now
kissing
and embracing
the placing of our heart
inside
all the places
from
which we bleed
posterity and spontaneity
to every deity
that
receives us
EJR
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