our bloom game too strong / altar stays red candle cinnamon-lit
sweet flicker cracking into prance / stays portal door warmed ajar
spell-flung darkward / would but we so black we lightless

no mirrors / so touchsoundfood our cedar smoke drumkicks
the body back to gospel / drumsticks the body smacked in mouthfuls
the room perfumes with our funkbrightwild / would but our skin yams

plush mothers cackling juice dripping / and this just our first slow branch
ascending / would but neighbors to dine and unstranger / rootbind into kin
a nation of misalphaed wolf carcass to climb through / would hex their new head

that neverman / rot reeking the soil / but who’d feed these seeds
that wet orange howl just compost slime returning returning
the sky glows red candle / air soots and sludges darkward / still

our funkbrightwild / block by block our tangling tangling
we would hex the damned born-dead but billions still alive / cored and alive
threshed concave and still sweet flickers / would but who needs these feasts?