THE RIGHT THE RIGHT THE RIGHT

“only severed could any part of her have been called ‘right’”
—Djuna Barnes

monotony in our position’s a ruin to the fellow            swallowing a shepherd in a basket a shepherd
who debauched a shepherd flocked and slaughtered basket image for the record, for the record
our prayer is decked in a hetaera’s dress {on the inside, very quiet} threshold, live and fickle all
the chaos, sense within which rose like waves, foaming with english            anguish gush             the eyes of 
fools who look to ends      the woods of mouths are deep and green, infested by live waters
that we watch
which watch us alter       in our dreamings
in these stained-glass vanities         we dug our feet in pastor’s fantasies and then       we woke again      
and woke again              and in the skin of our own wards             of our own words     we woke in this—    
the men’s parthenogenesis              but hush but hush          but hush and hush