Centipede: it graves away, digging each step, a faint near-
er. Close call. Death, as it is an insect whose form
of fishing through the shit. (Oh you know, the grass and the grapes
and the faith and the strength
to dig up, and not down.
To sink towards the sky,
to invert a frown).
It's been cast away, with its babe on the hook.
When it was dismissed it was mistook for a twig or
mulch, and yet. You flinched.
Was it the tiny beat of its heart
stomping its way through,
clearing its path;
Humble masturbation is to always wear a glove
Retractable regression is where we wake up
I shot down the rain, but i had to shoot a dove
I blame the bird, for it dared to interrupt.
Version two is musing me,
a little more of that terrestipede
Goes gah gah when done good deed
Gave leg to a dog who had but three
Coalescent limbs in search of history