Chased Beasts

“Phœnix of a father scattered / like fallen feathers, ashes instead of / weather troubling the water with / grotesque reflections of his soul never / getting into heaven…”

The Echoes of Statues

“In the secret grotto of deeply erotic, / poison-rooted, pussy-footed thoughts, bearded to the balls / like Whitman, forgive me if I sing / a song of my…”