Beginning and end.
The death inside of us
[vague white glow in the distance,
 halo-like]
and grief
like a spiderweb all over the body
The word [dark purple]
came as nausea one morning and
grew in temples
Mothers, babies, priests,
people with new names,
trying to die
in these traps
in these trenches
At the same time:
The crowd, like flexible membranes
Holy fools
The tragic infinity of broken hearts
Holy fools
To coax and to glance
Movements, approaches and withdrawals
machines of expansion, stages,
histories for the small
Continous
Blood and skin in exile
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