eartheater

it is good to know how to love other animals

cause you’ll be many animals in this life.

my 16 year old self is a whole ‘nother animal.

I say this not to sound cute and marketable

but instead to remind you that we are animals

& it is not a mere condition of our existence.

it is our being awake that is the condition

and the greater body of this maneuver

is feathers and breathwork; the slant of eyes.

you may say that it’s kindness that is human.

if you’re weak & do men you’ll say God.

it is actually neither of these things; it is sex;

it is also smells and feelings; it is also drugs.

this is not a shrinking. you’ve been punked.

you’ve thought sex only a kind of dreaming.

your fists are barred to the quiet horror,

the stoicism of knowing the true all-goodness:

that without needing gold, we are heavy,

without needing heaven, we are our best.

ten million men could be fucking each other

and all you’d be able to taste on them is skin.

and why is God not skin? God is not here.

We are here. pray forever if you’re precious.

some of us have been precious enough.

I am not precious. the trash trucks come

and I am finishing a nightlong impression

of your bone-white thigh. I am pressing you 

with my mouth. get away from knowing 

my name. go into where babies cry

and be whatever you’ve become.

this is a grandness like carpets of bodies.

this is a wild beauty—the moon fists the sky,

bodies expect to die into colorful new meals,

cum spats into a jagged fall of dead forest,

every light makes a shape we sit & feed like

our beloveds for the rest of our lives. 

We do not love anybody and light is

violent with light. water rushes and I 

remember dead firsts of my everything.