peaches

Eating / peaches in bed / & pussy in the kitchen :: squash, pomegranates;  across sheets / Sweat flowing over my back, over the sink, / over the tile floors & / this is what I fight for:

A land without consecrated ground / no holy space but that which / we create; / simply our democratic vista rushing / to croon sweet reunion

Juice sticking my chin / sugar-crusted lips / I’ll

Abandon myself to that river – to / that land without a temple / head down

With still-pithy stones in my pockets – 

The whole face of which is 

Ringing

With my yawp 

“Eudaimonia, eudaimonia”  :: “I am your / apple, I am your apple”