Doubting Thomas

goodbye everything

autumn doused

two bodies pounding into one another

develops the mindkiller

pushing rye into a belly of red coils

larvae is a blinking cursor

and then a pulse and then a doubting thomas

paradise is lined with magnesium nitrate

filled with the kind of sound

you have to spit in your hand to make

the lady reads karl marx

as our gondola drifts calmly under

doolittle will descend

and dead boys will nourish the maggots

gravity is

unidentifiable
when against the sun