Over there is an ancient land.
Many heads are flying,
One of them hangs on mine, suspended in perpetuity.
There’s a market:
Eat, drink, and be merry; brawl over love and beauty.
My amorous rival lives inside my body, hiding by day, budding at night.
That, there, is a film.
You and the actors engage in a massacre.
You protect the pretend dentist, and dentures he inserts are taken for real.
I hold a rose in my hands
On Valentine’s Day
As if bearing aloft some cabbage leaves
To challenge earth's gravity.
It seems the apple will fall,
An indicator there’s never been utter nothingness.