and now it is #25

XXV.I wrotethe childrenthe vulnerableshitting fucking eatingtwo of these you do not tend to do in groupsI write my hands crythe earththe reversal of the earthpity for the poetfor the poet is of praisefor the praise of shefor her understandingawful understandingI wrote that truth should stand stillfor she is full of praisedaylight spentmorning lighthe praises on big feetthe plinth a monumental stick figurehis brain his big brain all its slick technologyin the spent lightfor nothing but the violenceof shitting fucking eatingfolds the airinto her mouthbe still she saidexcuse my sextoday my hands writepity for the day