Insecticide #12

The Littlest Church in the World

Foreign body; foreign tongue,
mind’s processes halted.
And you
speak
to me
in poems.

I copy your voice
in my recorder;
and I
listen
to your
philosophies.

Astronomies.

Neptune’s
pluralisms,
and Saturn’s
temple’s
kiss;
was good,
but
the future
has hope
for something
more substantial.

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