in my end is my beginning – just
a rat’s nest coiled in back-shed dust,a tangle of demented knots
gothic as the Grimms’ dark plots,a thrumming song of wreak and wreck
(whose satin bed, whose trusting neck?),the tautened threat from fist to fist,
the carpe diem tug and twist.My image haunts your DNA,
that tiny ruthless shadow play.I’m hairshirt-hallowed, gallows shred,
bog-buried hair ... (read more)