bowl of red
boiling spice
to dip our delicacies
boil, entice
our senses with
cow throat
cow heart
pig intestines
– ‘my friends,’ i ask, ‘do you not realize what was squeezed through this?’
pig stomach
(among other things)
6pm I ate you down
4am you woke me up
climbing back into bed with
an arse afire
the sieve and the sand 
lulz
thanks for that.
randy, this poo’s for you
“An Arse Afire” could be a good title, perhaps if there’s ever a sieve “poetry is excremental” book, a scatological survey of our poetics.
i gotta get around to book 3… i did about a month ago… but there’s like 600+ new poems… i’m lazy to parse them or copy and paste them manually… i’ve looked into SOOO many different options for automating the process and none are good.
sad sad.
i’ll get to it.
i promise.
it just might be january…