I want to
rip myelf
wide open,
split asunder
the white shrine
of interlacing ribs.
sever the many
delicate weaves
of flesh.

Let my blood
drain drop
by drop,
into all gutters
swollen rank with
profits of swill,
then scatter wide
as mist off
playground sprinklers.

Let the wind
chafe my flesh
against the abrading
world powers,
spill my guts
on common ground,
where swollen navels
grow third eyes
in need of food.

To create a fire,
a revolutionary force
of imagination
of love
of trust,
i want to open
to any strong wind,
any breeze,
any murmur.