Whatever happens to this brimming world,
this weather a spring coiling in our backs
sharp with toys, sharper horizons, you can find
my severed head on a rust-color stalk, mouth
open, singing soil and mineral and core.
Whatever happens to this brimming world,
this weather a spring coiling in our backs
sharp with toys, sharper horizons, you can find
my severed head on a rust-color stalk, mouth
open, singing soil and mineral and core.