The Fabrics

A steep drowning
in traffic of curves-
of legitimate sin.

It was a supergame
of exotica. Witchcraft
was playing with light-

years. Are you still
hosting the life? In
cracks and crevices of pain?

Very methodical. You were
devouring the death to
become immortal. Were

you serious about bount-
eous harvest? Your alma mater,
where you wrote your first poem.