black-and-white

we've torn the testicles from the words that gave us womb-blast.
fish are dying to see you; their eyes are mellow forest-lights,
dreaming.

it's not so impossible as all that.  our dinner plates
reflect our gruesome visages.  hell is love in its
holiday sweater.

ten thousand megawatt recycling force, when the tears
come home to you.  i pray, we pray, you pray for the
humble stars.

there is a name for the journey, a sound the mouth makes when
teeth hurt and then it cries in the unforgettable patois of
black-and-white.  

unspoken reveries, wrapped in warm wool, eating of dead light.
nobody guessed at the fungal variety staining the reality of our
monochrome riddles.