all people start to
 come apart finally
 and there it is:
 just empty ashtrays in a room
 or wisps of hair on a comb
 in the dissolving moonlight.

it is all ash and dry leaves
 and grief gone
 like an ocean liner.

when the shoes fill with blood
 you know
 that the shoes are dead.

true revolution
 comes from true revulsion;
 when things get bad enough
 the kitten will kill the lion.

the statues in the church of my childhood
 and the candles that burn at their feet
 if I could only take these
 and open their eyes
 and feel their legs
 and hear their clay mouths
 say the true
 clay
 words.

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