the beast speaker steps up to the podium to deliver a helping of wavering gravy, thick and starchy, his lineage feast, pardoned for being with penis.
I stick my nose in the earth and suck in the particles of our pasts, dustings of our memories through osmosis. you where there and here and back again, while we were mud and dry coverings speaking like friends in a dirty coffee shop.
was it Jesus or Jésus, standing in the cellar door? punching at the angels with a wrecking ball? buying sacks of forbidden fruit and passing it, or, passing as, unwelcome advice?
and you, a traveling bearer, with a basket full, swinging with abandon, my holistic cup runneth over, swiping my lips of rotted wine drops for your memoriam.
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