1:43AM (The Quiet Eruption)
Heresy and healing, a hermaphrodite of hate and love.
A dark swamp, snake-rippled water, the black mud
of Louisiana bayou, baying like a whore in heat.
An escalation of energy, a semblance of the sweet sound
of orgasm, the inadequacy slipping away, a silver ghost.
the God of Misery, and, at the bar, as we drink our
beers, he says to me, “You’re sitting in Rimbaud’s seat.”