“The headline read, / ‘Narcissus Dead, Drowned / in a Pool / of His Own / Tears,’ I said, / ‘Who really cares / how he went? / I’m not the / curator…”

“Beaten gold-intentioned, the hammer-hewn deal we strike / with loving wild things is knowing that / one day they won’t return. Promising depth, / love is a death…”

“Witnessing wishes vanishing, abandoning / vanity’s fulfillment, exiling to / an oft off-grid figment / of an Amazonian imagination, / redolent with fragrant neon / tickling perception in flickering / purple…”

“These are new / pornographies penned to / offend those gods / others threaten their / lovers to become. / Ask your Self: / are you Pro-Me / or here just / for…”

“Boot-leathered, musty, anonymity flourishes, neon-haloed, / glows viral, denies trust its / virus, Vitus-Dancing upon desire plaguing / minds with pulsating vibes of / thrusts fantasized, actualized by spitting…”

“Assassins and adulterers, / follow me through / exile to my / eclipse and return, // cloaked by the / heart on my / sleeve, the setting / autumn sun showers // in…”