These Are My Words, Not My Words

Not a horse to ridden,
sleep on the entrails of life.

Has everything been said, not been said.
These are not my words, I said.

These are nor the words I have bled:
Conerstone Mafia
inbred miletoast
after the seaward sunset.
Maquis
Dirigible placenta

I can’t think,
arms ablated, sea foam asunder,
drowning blue.

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