All You Bring is Love and
a Conscience Filled With Grief


the impartiality and manipulation
of the beast
or religion or spell-binding paganism
from the crest of my sacred feet:
draining from me like honey.
you call it a cunt; some call it the manifestation
of the goddess or the dew-dropped virginity of mary
and her love affair to start-
i call it the dawning of my immortality and
the speckled deceit you lay down precisely
at those feet
void of love, and lust, and belief.

while you question the plea of morality
and tender your garden sweet
you tame the weeds like poison
and somber the christening defeat; half-hearted.