EIGHTEENTH REPLY
leather faces
hardened into granite—
sparkplugs in the sandstone
plundering ourselves opaque—
gloves off
a hijacked foundation of petri dishes
cascading over old burial grounds
isomers fitted onto
millions of billions of moons
that die when you close your eyes—
drowning leeches in gasoline—
the few, the far-between
legs boiled over with black holes
hunger
for the death of light in the mountains—
a microscopic scaffold—
fermenting in the
dark
of dank dwellings
pea river journal 
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