- Vol. 05
I saw a concave knitting beneath your twinkling eye splash of talks and splash of memories, Mother, rub my sins hard as death bright as sunflower-toasts rub my thighs, rub my thoughts fastening my back, erecting my mind. In the eye of mundane truths and lives of insect-bites plaster this eggshell body with bubble and foam a star kissing another star. Your eyes soft as my belly-button with hands of vertical stripes and patterns like a lullaby, I often see your face in my dreams, Mother, countless motions of twists. I die each night to feel this salty-love – a paroxysm of your body.