shaman of clematis and poppy king
seeds reads the four genuine directions

found deep inside the pistil opening
with blue heat would you follow these omens

to the land of the dead just to bury
your nose in its flaring cobalt? giving

birth to demons we are the ancestry
of our future smut the dead leave judging

to the self-conceited shamans know who
will talk who’ll fuck who’ll give us the answers

the dead summon us come come a well-hung
sapphire ring re-sizes itself for you

could you wrap it around your two fingers?
could you wrap it around your bluest tongue?