Gravels taste like stone
Hot air
Threading along the crooked path —
my veins
run deeper than sighs
all the way to the crust
the crumb
II
When a man dies
He is not varnished
this
is what my heart told me
on the sidewalks:
that love existed only in death
and death —
the true death —
only exists between people in love
in the love of death
the Earth
the crust
the basic ecstasy of non-existence
the death of air
the air of death
It is in the dearth of love
the gravels
the stone
Here Lies [insert my name if you know it]
With love.
