I was dead
but they kept killing me
by the seaside,
the Super Target,
on a plane,
in a beetle’s husk.
My arms stretched wide
but could not
find my eyes.
I won’t betray you
I won’t betray you
I say again
& again to Artaud.
But where is the sonnet of power?
Where is the sonnet of suffering?
And when the skin comes off
it comes off like a shower curtain.
And when there is joy
there is joy like a dirt road.
You do not get
to pick your oracle.
You only know
your weaknesses.