The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

April 21, 2007


self-devouring avatar in sea of blood
nothing like death to get you in the mood
your coffin's soaked from salt-water wood
soaked in the misery of salt-water rain
falling like hail-gouged skin once again
the flesh scatters hard as going gets rough
down came the limbs from hard cradle's bough
whatever you think you might as well been
swallowed by water and damned to be seen
your clothes ripped to shreds by worm-water moth
your body's for fishes and fishes for both

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