Now we scrape away the hair.

this is the act of remembering;

new growth.

Next we explore the beauty –

of women, of plants, of men,

and other things;

of rocks, of beasts, and everything.

This is called rejoicing –

often emitting in sighs, and songs,

and pain –

And so we slice our flesh –

joining the inside with out

through searing and drowning,

the fluids, the ashes –

This is how we mourn.


And morning still comes,

the seeds, sperm, germs,

and dawn all continue

their leakage and drift,

And thus we are released –

like tears,

like dust,

And something absorbs

it all:

the hair, the blood,

the love, the screams,

the differences and repetitions

of traumas and loss

such awesome gains

each beauty its’ evening,

And so we reach –