I can't stop mixing feelings and thoughts in the volcanoes caldera
I want to write about all the things in the world but I don't know where to begin
or how or when to begin.
Fur dries when dead and skin peels from flesh and muscle tissue:
somewhat the result of death the ending of beating heart nerve twitches
the severing of blood and iron the life giver breathing oxygen into cells,
somewhat also the passing of time and openness and windiness or air passing
through follicles far gone though live mistaken by the eye
somewhat also from rapid flies and their incessant needs of reproduction,
pouring forth eggs and young into the flesh for meal becomes the muscle flesh.
Watching an opossum's belly turn and writhe under the hot summer sun,
idle by the side of the road turns also my stomach, and thankful it is empty
of food later for dinner.
Gas expands the animal turned organic cavity: methane grows as byproduct
of microorganisms and their evolutionary needs for fuel for their own kind:
reproduction bears fruit and yet again rules the fates of others
feeding and fueling and waiting and craving
and demanding more from passersby's if they sit unsuspecting
they too will bear the fruit of rancid meat and fly speck goners
puking red meal acidic intrails out onto the pathways of earthly life.