We have you to thank

And at this moment life has lived to form a wet and blacksoaked web of hardened oils into a blanket bare and irresponsible. Light falls across a sky made of bridges

and netted heads of my grandfather's daughters and sons get pushed down hard into the shoulders of their coats. Sliding a softened and heat-held, looked at as reborn- web of fur over my bare skin and

despair quickly is sandwiched by the awareness of time; it becomes morning. Those children are despair; have been heat-held, looked at as reborn- and are fitting desperately into new clothing.

I've chopped for them strawberries and taken away their pet needs from them. I've been told to head out their capital struggle through seeing the way that their eyes are filtering through the present pain. I've been told to write often; told to give and take away, resting on nothing but moving wheels over a heat-held, looked at as blank avenue.

Who will be their gods when i take theirs away. I've begun to allow the reinvention of their purpose and the threatening disappointment to place my hands

to push downward their netted heads into the shoulders of their coats. Breathing backwards across sun-dappled sidewalks I am the necessity of eternal surprise; the fig which is ripe but the fight is now to take it and destroy.