I know why you couldn’t shave anymoreI used to think that you couldbut needed to be touchedI think, now, that something told you“What’s the use?”and you agreedand your hands and knees agreedand next morningyour shrunken headcould think only of hard rivers of nerves.


the soul

For some, it wavers, I fancy, as does a candle’s flame. In others, it is compacted and hard, unreached by the light. Molecules from a veiled realm, finding fate and purpose. Unlucky are those without shields, for their radiance flows freely, a boon for all, but soon tainted.