Thursday, August 22, 2013
Like a doctor without gloves
I want to touch
the inside of a pumpkin with my eyes closed. Let there be thunderstorms.
Let the operation be outdoors all day and let it be
consentual, or else there is no hand.
I know there is no other way
to become again clean. As in viscera clean.
As in I am dirty through and through.
It is holy to want to
clean one's self this way. It is holy to want
to enter a thing and leave, covered
in what it knows.