If I could stir
I could break a tree—
I could break you.

desire: words, fire.
i’ll show you how the hills burn,
if we both survive.

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; the best of life is but intoxication.

I love what you offered but, darling flesh, how can you help me when I can’t sleep without nightmares, I cannot stop the singing from the distant hills, I cannot drink without writing all my distraught thoughts down on the page for you? And who wants darling flesh after such words are spoken?

To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.

all that wet.

Crepe myrtle!
Isn’t there someone out
there who’ll give themselves
up to me
to be ruined?

Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god.

… before today my body was useless./ now it’s tearing at its square corners.