A room walled-in by books where the hours withdraw.

    At the foot of an unmade bed a bird of paradise.

    Motel carpet melted where an iron had been.

    His attention anchored to a late night glory hole.

    Of janitorial carts no heaviness like theirs.

    Desire seen cavorting with the yes inside the no.

    A soul kiss swimming solo in an open wound.

    The self as church where the whores now gather in.