dialogue

sure, by all means do, yes do:

from my arms your early threads fall down. from your silver spoons downward
your lips are spoken unto . our legs collapse into perspective, a stretch of breathing is heard as the tape goes into whining & then

the halo carrying our manly mutilated head is having troubles with the hair again.
thus we squander us:

• we square our roots.
• we spill our beans.
• we hemorrhage.
• we get filleted by the spoils of us

& oh the space you take. ah the fumes i make.

a full embrace would break the book. let's sit and talk, you know i know your when:
you have been in & out my rivers so many times the sound of your body
has turned to resonating rock.

Do you remember fear? Anxiety?

Grief is bled into the flow where his body breaks into the lake, for instance, the desolate black, our primer, a thumbed and sleezy here for dummies, mortality for morons, this feeble pit of now that integrates/desintegrates among our moaning selves, a palpitating sometimes that would be much easier if you just didn't didn't didn't & we would not have to like we

do but do,