Bones
Today this body looks good.Eugene taught me āgoatee is goodāin Alpha-Russian, and pulling a button off this short-sleeved shirt showed him, yeah, I can grow hair there, too ā but no rocks call, or sky, or ocean,no words in waves, no windy voice ofGod. My bones donāt sing to me.I eat myself day after day,mate myself night after night,make little puppets out of skin āas the earth, musical homeā¦










