End Fetish: An Index Of Last Lines

a face stares back.

across the hostile centuries.

add a twist — delicious.

and never feel a thing.

commercial — added stretch to every gesture.

how it is made.

I almost admire it. I almost wrote despise.

I’d be all give. Let me put it like this==

in the nocturnal, recessed bed==

of nettles.

resembles the bird it will fly into.

Right now I’m trying to open wide.

she turns to a tree.

she would be neither-nor.

smoky field.

that is space.

the bride.

the exdream — the world gone into god again?

the night.

the white between the ink.

the white navel — I notice — in the O.

their harsh done crust.

then some inbetween?

to a nuptial lace.

to ever dwell again.

to mask the screen in dumb expanse.

touch in linen walls.

Turn — her — loose —

What — does not console?

who could bear to save her.

yes, god her saurian voice into the ground.