Fall into a hallow tree

Loathing laughs—laughter, or, better it
sullies secrets
and lifts out—lets lift
verve, spirit.

Come again
or leave again or stay again
and again again a thousand repeat offenses
—she acts on, by, to, from, besides, aside

—Trust? —Who can trust?


Laughing loathes loathing
without the turning key that loathing knows.

What key?

—And the spirit swerves to read itself
as she passes by—by whose momentum?

Is anything good or bad?
—Thinking thinks so—such a splendid prison.

Turn: sober sun. Counter turn: drunken star.

Between I see
I see an androgynous
earth maker and dream thief come—come
transfigure these figures
these figurines
into idols worship worthy, true icons
that speak in tongues.

All to laugh? To loath? To parody?

Incipit traegoidia—acta est fabula?

Incipit parodia—ad infinitum?

Yet already in the middle—middling
between two towers—don’t fear the buffoon: spear him.

—Or die and be her.

Fall into a hollow tree and corpse-into earth
by roots
and heaven by branches
—root-tickling dirt and death and leaf-grasping wind and gods.

Fall into a hallow tree.

—Laughing, loathing, being—come again stay again die again
a thousand repeat offenses.

(Drawing above: King, watercolor and ink on paper)

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