but the darker fruits beckon

and the tragedies invite

and the arms of shadows are ever open


We have never rested so comfortably

as we have in the cavernous mouth of depression-

spacious and accommodating

so that we can lie as still as death

from which the roots of this world curl out

and puncture our skin


I may be a sinner

but there is enough rain to weep over everyone

so I take pride in my generosity

when I offer them my salt water plums

plunge my thumbs in and tear the flesh in half

so the dark nectar spills over my fingers

to show them


there is an ocean inside


forgive me for embracing something I do not understand

but we are all young lovers here


and this is why

all your stethoscope can hear

is the hum-drum of the voice that says no,

I cannot be happy,

I do not wish to be.