Confessional Hurt

Holding the ladder
I was hungry
looking at the waiting dawn.

Raw landscape:
narcissism
forages the belly.

Picking up the figs
from passion flowers.
Is that right?

Can you sow the seeds
on a cloud?
Unclothed words?

Stealthily
a guerilla smashes
a summary of centre.

A falconer
releases a prey
to feed an anarchy.