Sunday, December 22, 2013

A Random Dollop of Infinity

You woke in a morass of intricate Bernini curves –
a vast Baroque amalgam of discarded impulses –
the sort of thing Teresa would have been had she

not ever been to mass – orgasmically devoid
of Christianity – alloyed with unrepentance –
suffering the sentence of a judgment carried out

by something other than divinity. You seem to have
become, or ended up, another version of exactly
what you’d been – a random dollop of infinity. 


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