this body is     a technique

that hungers     machine-like

but no      machine

stands so      shy on stilts

what teems below     appears as

but there is no     disorder

just a chaos     called satiety

when it draws     near

just a chaos     to convince

I am a threat      that don’t exist

my face is a     mirror’s trick

I plunge through    to eat

I keep myself in     my own eye

then curl my neck     into an S

when I’ve conquered     then I retreat

I am an assembly     of ramifications & trash

hair spit & mud     pages from books

ripped leaves of grass     between heaven & earth

suspended I sing     who am I

With my mouth full     I’m a repurposed nursery     

but mouth full of sky     I’m a funeral wreath

Woven into my body     the butterfly’s wing

that touched off a tempest     effect & cause

the spider’s fatal silk     new feathered with moss

cause & effect     yarn & time

When the serpent sheds     her mobile home     

it finds a new home     gathered into my cup

O who am I     what am I

Call me a world     call me a source

Hold me up to the sun     to find another 

Sun floating inside      the sky inside the

World you call me     a source turning

Itself inside-out     what is born is born

By breaking the limit     that defines

The true from the truant     horizon that curves

Then crumbles, call me     but call quietly

Here is a center     but I shatter

Step out of myself      and expand

Once I was empty     and swallowed a world

It worked its way     through me like pain

my jaw unhinged     my body all throat

But I was still empty     put my head in a hole

worked my way through it     curled up inside

filling the whole     not unlike sleep

When I woke     everything looked young

but my skin felt old     I crawled through it

into a new world     though I was empty still

Things were beginning     to circle around

the sun the seasons     the clouds the creatures

so I swallowed my end     and I was the world

forever empty but full      of hunger itself