What remains of my poems
Is stillborn
Wrapped in senseless rhythm
Left to fend for itself
In the realm of thought

What remains of my poems
Is a pause
A seizure of the epileptic
The workmanship of
Industrious fallen angels

I taste the garden
Of Eden in your sweet lips
Hold me, your creature!
Take me into your strong arms
Softly. Never let me go!

I covered my eyes
To avoid the light of God
Abandoned all hope
As I entered with my soul
Drenched. Weighed down by guilt
As squid's ink blacken the sea
Was my vain heart when
God told me to sit with him
God told me to eat with him

The garden of Love
Is in a cemetery
Mourners come visit
With black clothes and Bibles
To sit and be still
To speak of sweet memories
There's no gardener
The flowers have become wild
Reaching the mouths of angels

I am a chicken
Trapped in a cage
I see no way out
(What is out?)

I am surrounded
By chicken heads
We are one creature
(What is one?)

I hear unpleasant-
Ness. Something in
This body aches
(Am I the world?)

I feel cold metal
I feel heat
I feel nothing
(What is feeling?)

I realized that beautiful things
Bring me joy knowing
That I could return
And experience them again
With somebody new
Somebody to love
Someone whose soul is
Of the same substance
As mine

But knowing that I
May never return
Every experience becomes
A drag through loneliness
A coffee cup of pain
Things end
You can never go back
That is all to learn from life

The hour of mourning
Comes frozen in cool amber
Your love is nowhere
But left a solemn letter
You gaze to the sky
With the eye of a leopard
Try and try you might
But you sink down the water
Of regret and repentance