for Jared         

Need to make it to the end of this first line the end
Alone is safe with holes like him holes of black hair non
-Metaphorical holes that smoke although you know them
To be of room temperature, the bright furniture
Sticks queer lights to the tips of his eyelashes
Won’t a flame, if seen through the slit in its core, look like the orchid of
                                                                                          self?
‘Exactly so,’ he says.
Must by all means stay on the same step the contact
‘D be lost were he to trip up higher the higher he
Will go you will go and genitals if any have to wait
Inside the straight argument, the soft monument
Of one-and-a-half fingers at the zipper unfastens
Does the papercut, applied to human nature, not flatten the sex to a
                                                                                          both?
‘Most true,’ he says
As if naked from the waist.
And must seduction, hence, not be a property of the second you doubt?
‘At any rate,’ he says
Just as scraping.
And the beloved, need he not consent to what he cannot know he is?
‚Very well,’ he says
Before he grows tired of
his own end, no?