Light comes for us everyday & sometimes there’s a picture.

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The only real part of the jaw
is the whisper. 

Eggshell or snake's tooth: 
in my breath,

             a quail's hunger
laureled by reddish nopal
& woodsmoke.

It was Prometheus who stole
fire,
             if you'll remember.

Sometimes there is only want,

             indivisible, pure
as a grunt—

& sometimes there's a picture.

Last night, I took off my shirt
next
             to a woman 

holding a camera.

Any word is a new world
to someone—

the wilderness
I swallow I sow. 

Vulture & pixels. Strobe light.
Liver,
Hindsight 

             was the brother.

Light comes for us everyday.

& what is hunger but a yolk
ball spasming, 

             but a victim of the kingdom.