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?
memories of my ghost sista 