All my lovers, not my brother
In transit across
Moon quakes and angels dust
Pity those poor mites
For what has come, gone
What lay beforehand
That which transcends me now
Diseases not brought aboard
Launch desire
Intertwining limbs
Like scraped branches
Hiccuping hello and drums bang
How then? Now then! Foul in Zen
These latitudes are off kilter
Filtered daily waste
For my pension, collapsing
This that has died
Those that have come alone
To endear my name and attitude
Behaviours unknown to most.
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