black milk glass
i look down at the body
to see what shape its in.
earth-born son, turquoise slap
of my mother against the golden-
bangled mother. i let them come.
my dark tongues flickering, my heads
Cancerian fire. every tip would touch you.
the shoulders of a bull, eyelashes lower
over tender pools obsidian. im a cow.
a ticket to the fight. my velvet
suit. warm press of skin.
i drink, i let it come.
dragging behind its un-
translatable blade.
//
Socrates: (in Charmides, cont.)
and in that same spot
i (they) take hold altogether of many
those (on the one hand) unknown by me
those (on the other hand) the most thoroughly-known
// 153α