the things which i create are not me, for i am malleus
tentacle king of dreams and the sea
neither living nor dead, slave to bones and detritus
Does it bother you?

i offer communion in tough octopus flesh
cool suckers to your fevered forehead
a tip wraps (slender) gently (unnoticed) around
your neck and along your ear (the seat of one seventh of the soul)
where a drop of water is hanging
reflecting a sea full of garbage

at the edge where the flies swarm
the rotting fish and algae form
an inextricable link between the air (raven) and the sea,
the one must wander but the other is free

why? why? i don t ' kn ow
it s ' jttt th eway i wasth ewayi wasssss

i am searching the ocean floor
for shells to pry and muscles to digest
peripherally listening for those pieces of song
startling like hallucinations unfolding the edges of vision
and passing into the abyss where pressure is infinite and
darkness absolute (raven)

i don t ' kn ow where i am

trading one shallow coastline for another
while whales whistle folklore above the depths
i kill the reef and oil the shore
and the grass wilts in anticipation of my step
for today i meet the king of the earth who has forgotten
i glid through the waters before the earth was pulled up

when i deliver the demands of the forgotten ones
there is no answer and i am ravenous
and i cannot control my hunger

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