lock me up if you want to
bruise my toes against the cold pillars
of medieval insanity,
but i’ll never forget the absolute
that trickles through my memory glands
like golden stone in morning glory,
guarded by skeletons
and worshipped by saints,
given over to me in a formless rite
of trick photography
by mother
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
