Incarcerated thoughts are amputated dreams
dangling invisibly over the periphery.
They are phantom limbs
centrally stimulated by the mystery of memory.
...
There exists a peculiar fragrance
in forgiveness.
It defies the empirical finite, those smells
of sacrificial decomposing flesh, those subservient little lambs
...
God, the tailor,
our providential robe maker
hjas taken our nakedness,
shame and guilt,
...
My flesh
is a divided kingdom
and lives comfortably inside the schism.
My flesh,
...
When the leucotomes, the mind altering instruments
introduced by Dr. Egas Moniz,
entered my skulll,
they were driven by the competent hands of Dr. Walter Freeman.
...
After they laid me in the ground
no one came around,
neither birds, nor insects, nor rodents.
Not even one lousy angel showed-up,
...
When she cut me open
she didn't use manmade instruments.
She used words, singular and in sentences,
and even though she appeared to be
...
Tomorrow, my yesterday,
a band of bibliophiles arrested me.
They threw me in a cell on a block
reserved for the sick.
...
He came out of the desert full of the night
and clad in the nebula of kings
over queens, a full house.
Oh yeah! That 's right, cowboy,
...