the sand opera's sunset jazz
a sullen femininity in denial
of night's black addictions
hungry junkie a pirate shaman
towering above the star's web
like a vintage exit that opens its parachute
over an abacus of distraction
unity
deadlocked
with other unities’ multiplicities
the trophies
the beginnings
creeping toward their reflections
on a tiger’s back frozen in fantasies
of food alive in its mouth
the outlaw stigmata
was tattooed to his tongue
he didn’t know any other way
to talk about
being here
he ate meat all along
what difference did killing make
at this point
even fame tasted
the same
after awhile
he died
*
(for jim caroll, rip)
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