Sunday Afternoon

I watched you
shave
your mons Venus
     with precision
     and good humor
I see YOU
     peeking into
     the sacral bliss
blackened watercolors
     painting the faces
of the priests in which
     you intrude

astral life reincarnated
NEXTSOUL
floundering with
babymind

sin la rosa

con el oido blanco
quemo su fragrancia
     hasta que EL OLOR
a polvo sé relaje

the worms of today consume
     emperors