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.

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