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my pretty head

do not airbrush
your thoughts (diamond sharps
of memory blurred to mush)
with burning flowers

years and moments will blunt
your edge soon enough
...why rush?
is the
bitter hunt
for dodging self

(stuffing airblood
with plant grease
is no way
to ponder

gum spirit cogs
muddy lucid rivers
fog your brain to
smoggy haze
(visibility gone
infinite to
a thought or less).
there are better ropes
to hang with.

pull the weed from your
plant me instead honest limbic tour.
earnest lust
is no vegetarian

hone poor
with this direct flesh
perhaps a cure
at least
...less hack, after all, mary

is a cheap substitute for love.

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